


My Beloved Intended

by SilverhandsAss



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Oral Sex, Regency Romance, Romance, Secret Sex, Sex, Smut, a biiiiiit of a slow burn kinda, a bit - Freeform, dont judge me, just. emotional support, secret romance, wholesome support, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverhandsAss/pseuds/SilverhandsAss
Summary: In a world where society's expectations are gospel, Valerie finds her hopes and dreams shattered when she is trapped in a loveless, arranged engagement with Johnny, an unruly 'fallen' noble that cannot be tamed.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 55
Kudos: 149





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO. Quick info. I only wrote this because I watched Bridgerton and my best friend and I were talking about a Regency AU for certain cyberpunk bois, and so I had this idea and wanted to write it out. I did not know I would love writing it so much.
> 
> My V's name here is Valerie Rose Palencia, and a little background for Johnny's name. In canon, his name is Robert John Linder, so I've made his regency name John Linder, while his /father/ is the one called Robert, because, reasons.
> 
> The AU parallel of V getting the chip stuck in her head is the whole arranged marriage situation.
> 
> And that's it!

For the longest time, Valerie had been preparing for this moment. As a young girl, she had played with her friends and cousins, enacting the day that would one day come for callers to ask for her favor and her hand. She used to dream about this, day in, day out, dreaming of what it might one day be like to settle down and marry the man of her dreams.

It was certainly a surprise to hear when her father finally revealed that a match had been made. She expected there to be a little more frivolity and whimsy, more excitement and anticipation during countless hours of ballroom dances and sideway glances. There was to be passion and subtle intentions, beautiful words laced with innocent innuendos in promise of a bright future—should she choose to take any of the offers.

Still, it did not matter. A match had been made, one that fit the standards of her parents to be sure—and that was not always an easy thing. The gentleman’s family had hosted a wonderfully _expensive_ ball, luxurious and elegant in every way, shape and form. The music plucked at the heartstrings, the colors of the décor were ever so well complimented, and the people invited had come in their best fabrics and jewels.

It was meant to be a night of a renowned union between her family and her soon-to-be husband’s. After seeing his parents, the great Lord and Lady Linder, she was rather impressed by their clean, beautiful attire and dress, as well as their general etiquette and manners. She began to get truly excited when they boasted of their son, how truly looked after and happy she would be in his care.

Then, she could hear the guests chatter and whisper about the man in question having just arrived at the ball. She had heard he was a handsome fellow, with dark hair and captivating eyes. He was apparently tall in height and had a unique sense of dress—she hoped that was a good thing. She had heard good tales of the man from his parents, thinking she would turn to find a well put together, highly respectable gentleman walking towards her with just as much excitement.

But the man she saw instead was much different.

No. This man was a complete, fucking mess.

His hair was indeed dark, but not well kempt and tidy as she thought it would be. Instead, it flowed on either side of his face, just barely grazing his shoulders. His eyes were indeed captivating in a way that a deer would watch the eyes of a predator—they were far too cold for her liking. His beard was slightly scruffy, as though he had failed to trim it for the past week. He was tall, and he _did_ have a unique sense of dress, in that he did not bother to keep the top of his shirt buttoned at all and wore no vest or anything to accompany it beneath his undone jacket. He walked with such arrogance that she had only ever seen on dishonorable men, his smirk warning her that his lips could only promise false hopes and pretenses.

Surely this was an older brother of the man she had heard of. Perhaps he had failed in his duties and so he was cast aside for a more successful heir to the family’s legacy.

Surely this was not the man she was meant to be spending the rest of her life with.

“At long last,” Lord Robert spoke. “My son, Lord John Linder.”

Well.

Fuck.

As he treaded the long path from the stairway to where they stood, Valerie could feel the world swallowing her up whole as her insides churned. He cast his eyes at nearly every woman that called to him, only making his smirk grow—which would not have been any different from most indecent men had he not actually stopped for one of them. A clearing of his father’s throat had him rolling his eyes and continuing his walk. When he finally arrived, he did not bother even looking at her. In fact, he looked bored. How could a man who was just about to be married to the woman he was intended to meet look _that_ bored?

Valerie could barely hear the pleasantries exchanged between her parents and the man, she could only stare at him incredulously. _This_ was the man she was destined—no, _condemned_ —to marry. She could hear it now, the constant giggling and laughing of her peers when they hear the great noble she had been matched with was the human embodiment of a stumbling rat.

Then he looked at her.

She froze in her place, her eyes surely looking rather doe-eyed, though she was fuming. He dragged his cruel eyes slowly down her body, down to her toes and all the way back up. She felt as though she was being appraised like an object to be bought. The thought of it nearly made her entire body convulse. One look off to the side was enough to tell her that her parents did not see this as an obstacle. They simply smiled and continued with the niceties and manners necessary to keep the lord and lady appeased. One look right back at her from her father sent a chill down her spine.

This was going to be an intolerably long evening.

—

The dances that evening were not terrible. In fact, Valerie might have had a better time enjoying herself had she not been meant for someone already, in that same room. Still, she danced for propriety's sake, for tradition, hoping it would ease her mind and help her accept what was to come. Though, what with Valerie stealing many glances at him during her dances, she noticed that he had not spared a single one in her direction.

After all, how could he? His eyes seemed to be reserved for nearly every other woman in the room aside from her. Even to a man such as John, she presumed she was not _that_ undesirable. Her body was not as slim and slender as those of her peers, but it only meant her curves were that much more accommodating with the dresses she chose to wear. Her eyes glistened brighter than any polished sapphire, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders in beautiful shades of gold under the crystalline wreath.

She had worked hard to ensure that she looked positively _divine_ , and yet it did not seem to matter. Valerie had just finished her third dance, wanting to resign herself to the sidelines for a while when she heard a man clear his throat behind her. When she turned around, she had not expected to see her intended standing there, facing her. His attention was barely focused on her and that enraged her. She was far too busy wondering what he could possibly want with her, after having said _nothing_ to her to begin with, to expect what actually happened.

The lord held out his hand. No question, no formality—an unspoken offer for one final dance awaiting her response.

She _needed_ to get out of this arrangement.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie finally begins to form a first impression of the man she is meant to marry, as she uncovers a sordid truth about him.

Valerie was certain that her heart would leap into her throat and right out by how fast it was pounding. When finally facing her intended, she did not realize she would be _this_ nervous. She had given up so much to finally get the life she had been working for, only for it to be a man such as him. Such as _John Linder_.

He was not the kind of man she could see herself falling in love with, though she could not deny this one thing—he did have a certain charm to him. As he stepped in front of her, her hand in his, they stood in line for the dance and faced each other so intently. He had moved on from the constant appraising stare he had earlier, and was now looking her in the eyes as though for the first time.

Suddenly, his hands moved to her hip, her arm—wherever they needed to go for their routine—and the dance commenced _flawlessly_. She remembered her footwork, her twirls, every gentle touch, and was entirely surprised to find a similar motion in him. For someone who carried himself in complete disarray, he moved almost like clockwork amidst the crowd. It made her wonder if he enjoyed dancing, or if there was indeed a part of him that was knowledgeable in the courting fine young women.

Her mind certainly did not intend to begin thinking of just how many _fine young women_ this man had courted, and the thought brought a heavy pink blush upon her face. For a split second before yet another twirl, she could have sworn she saw his eyes drop to her cheeks, his lips quirking up. There was something inside her that could not stand such a cocky expression from men like him. The frustration and anger that it caused her to feel was enough to sober her from such thoughts for the rest of the night.

Still, she could not help but be a little surprised that he did not manage to step on her toes once. Maybe there was _some_ hope to overcome his behavior. Maybe they could move past that unfamiliarity and distance between them, play along with the rules until everything fell into place. Then the dance ended, he left her side to go drink to his heart's content, and she was reminded that he was an insufferable buffoon.

—

Merely days later, both families found themselves at yet another gathering at the Linder estate. This time, it was not a ball, but an afternoon event hosted in the wide, beautiful gardens behind the house. It was a lush and lively landscape, a delightful splash of greens and refined cobblestone with speckles of a large variety of flora all through the grounds. The stone walls that cordoned off the sections of the garden, as well as parts of the gates between them, were encompassed in wild, unruly tangles of bougainvillea and jasmine.

It was truly a remarkable sight, made even more elegant by the delicate care taken to set up the tables and buffets and seating areas outdoors. The white silks and golden frames were a charming contrast to the colors of the garden. It was all so breathtaking—and yet it was not enough to quell the dear Lady Valerie's discomfort.

Her intended had barely shown his face at the start of the event, but had not made contact with her. After some time, she noticed, he had completely disappeared from the grounds. Perhaps he had been in a different part of the gardens entirely. No matter, Valerie thought to herself. If he would not cooperate, then the proposal might simply fall apart soon enough and she might be free to accept callers again.

The frustration of it all, of raising her hopes only to be met with that sort of a man, was enough to have her rush back inside for a spell. The moment she stepped across the marble floors, she thought it silly to seek some fresh air _indoors_ and was about to leave the halls before her eyes caught sight of something on the wall. The paintings.

She had not paid close attention to them the first time she had come to the estate. Walking closer to one just above a sideboard, under a magnificent bouquet, she could not help but continue to stare. It was a wonderful portrait of some late family member or other. She did not care. Though the man was not entirely dashing, the skill and brushwork certainly caught her eye.

A sad smile grew from her lips as she recalled her last encounter with Laurence. My, he would have loved to see this painting. There was a sharp pang in her heart at the thought as Valerie took a deep breath to steady her emotions. Now was not the time to remember him.

Her eyes moved on to the painting just beside the portrait, and again and again until she found herself slowly ascending the great stairs to the halls above. The house was devoid of company at the moment, all of the servants either in the kitchens or outside. She felt comfort in the solitude and continued to peruse the paintings that graced the walls. Perhaps she would ask the Lady Linder about where she and her husband procured such unique pieces, maybe when—

Valerie froze in her steps, hearing the sound of muffled clatter echoing from down the hall. A great number of things must have fallen somewhere, and it piqued her interest. Brows furrowed, she stepped quickly and followed that sound, hearing something similar a moment later and a tad closer.

She continued to walk down the hall, turning a corner and listening intently. Just as she was about to give up, to remind herself that this was not proper behavior, she heard it again—and from behind a door mere steps away from her.

Slowly approaching it, Valerie wondered if she should let it be. It wasn't her business, it wasn't right, she shouldn't be snooping, she—

Her breath escaped her chest as she caught sight of what was transpiring through a door left carelessly ajar. There was a man that faced away from her, down on one knee in front of a woman. The woman herself had been pushed onto a desk, a hand grasping tightly at the edge and the other tangled into the mans hair. Valerie's heartbeat quickened immediately when she saw his hands grasping at her bare thighs tightly while his head fit snugly right between her legs.

Her core ached at the sight, dampening at the thought of what the woman must have been feeling. She knew all too well of the pleasures that lied between a woman's legs, but never had a man done _that_ to her. The woman seemed to enjoy it. Finally looking up, she recognized who the lady was. It was Lady Eleanor Keene, wife of Lord Baxter Keene.

Valerie found herself attempting to suppress a chuckle, never expecting to come across such a scandalous display. Though who was she to speak of scandal, she was no stranger to exploring the extremely human desires when stuck in such a precarious position as herself. She bit into her bottom lip, _hard_ , as she watched the man climb his way back onto his feet, face burying into the woman's neck away from her sight.

His shirt had slid down his arms but still hung at his waist, not completely slipped off. His back muscles worked hard as he moved against her, as his arms maneuvered around her. It was a truly delicious sight, if not for the rather off-putting sight of long, pale lines in odd angles across his skin. She had been staring at them for a moment too long when Lady Eleanor let out a long, startled gasp.

Jumping at the sound, Valerie looked at the woman to see her staring right back at her in horror. The man, who had been thrusting his hips hard into hers at the time, turned to see what the fuss was about.

Valerie felt her amusement and her arousal halt immediately, crashing against the walls of reality. Turning partly away from the woman, now staring at her in disgruntled frustration as his current... _liaison_... came to an end. Her expression and emotion evolved from shock to extreme anger in a matter of seconds, and her eyes were stuck to his form while Lady Eleanor gathered herself and her composure.

John moved away from her, shirt being pulled into place and his front completely out of sight as he buttoned his pants back up. He muttered and mumbled a few curses under his breath, not even looking at the lady he had just been fucking a moment ago.

As the woman passed her, Val noticed her staring at her a moment as though she was waiting for judgement or promise of condemnation. All Val did was nudge her head toward the door and tell her to go without even sparing her a glance. It was not her fault that Valerie's intended was a complete _arse_.

Finally, when he had composed himself, he turned to her and ran a hand through his hair. "Perfect," he spoke in a low growl. "Just another thing you've come to destroy."

Val raised a brow and scoffed. "The first words you say to me, and that is what you come up with?"

"It wasn't too difficult to think of. _My Lady_."

That was the last line. Valerie was completely taken aback by his demeanor. There was such a cold look in his eye, his brows furrowed and temples lined with sweat. Val shook her head, mouth gaping open a moment before the words could finally form. "You are... Despicable, and boorish—and entirely unlikable. Your parents certainly overpraised you."

The lord let out dry laugh. "They couldn't wait to be rid of me, as with you and your parents, I'm sure."

"How _dare_ you?" Valerie glared at him. "Do not attempt to understand me _or_ my family. It is not as if you've _tried_."

"Oh, but I do not need to try. I understand well enough," he replied with a sneer.

"You are _finished,_ " Valerie promised, turning to walk away.

"Certainly not but you are most welcome to help me in that regard," John told her, propping his hands on his hips. When she turned to him, he gave her a smirk, his eyes still rather spiteful. She could not even think to humor him with a response, so she spun around once more and finally marched out of the study.

Her eyes burned with tears as she realized that _this_ was the man she had abandoned her selfish desires for.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of insight is given on Johnny's life, the reasons behind his behavior, and Valerie makes him a dreadful promise.

It was easy enough to avoid any sort of mention of the intended for a good number of days. What with all parents involved mingling in their own time and other events being planned, it was easy to step away from the matter entirely for a moment to breathe.

It was hardly ever what Johnny could do. Breathe, that is. The large estate and it's long empty halls felt so small and constricted to him. Not in a way that they were not big enough, that he preferred a much larger and more luxurious place with halls wide enough to host several balls. He hated being in them, he _hated_ living in them, and would rather leave those walls behind if he could.

Johnny had been thinking about that when pacing in his father's study. He had been called to meet with him, though Robert had stepped out for a time. John hated this study. He hated those paintings he'd constantly stare at during the worst conversations—the memories that would spring into mind just because he had been staring at the button on the sleeve of a nobleman painted on canvas while his back ached and burned.

The doors opened and John snapped out of his thoughts with a sharp intake of breath. He stood straight and stared ahead, waiting as his father walked around him. Robert took his place at his desk, speaking with a servant about getting his affairs in order for a trip he would be taking soon. There was relief in the knowledge that he would not be home for a few days.

Finally, the servant departed, leaving Johnny in the room with his father. He dared not look at the paintings again, nor at the rug, but maybe the odd angles in which papers had been stacked on his father's desk. A quick reach of his hand would fix them all into position. He thought of that to keep his mind from wandering somewhere a little less savory.

"Women talk," Robert spoke, a moment's peace now over. John looked at him now, waiting patiently and trying not to betray his thoughts. "They speak so often and so delicately, but their words always leave a mark." Robert placed the quill he had in his hand back into the inkpot to look up at his son. "A word or two to a lady here and there spreads in whispers to her maid, who whispers it to another servant that happens to mention it to a servant of a different house. So on and so forth."

"And the words that were spoken?" John asked him, keeping his chin high. A difficult feat. Especially difficult when faced with the glare of his father.

"Lord Thompson mentioned something about his wife gossiping with his daughters." He stood, and John swallowed hard, his eyes focused on the empty seat. "Apparently they seem to have the idea that you do not _intend_ to see this marriage through."

With a small, silent sigh, John felt relief wash over him momentarily. It was not about his certain _activities_ from the other night. "Wish and intent are entirely different."

"Indeed, and you would do well to remember that, _boy_." Robert walked around the desk and up to John, standing uncomfortably close. He stuck his nose in John's face in a threatening manner, causing his son to look away and down to the ground. "Need I remind you of the last time you failed this house? Last time you failed _me_?"

John's teeth clenched as his eyes tarted across the patterns in the rug. Which pattern shall he associate _this_ conversation with, he wondered, as his eyes landed on a patch of intricate knots and decided on them. When he did not answer, his father raised his chin in a cocky manner.

"Good. Now go see her. If her family should break off this match in any way, for any reason—"

"They will not," John interrupted, looking his father in the eyes. What he saw in his face caused him to stumble slightly. "—My lord."

"They had better not." He replied with a nod. "Because if they do," Robert stepped closer once more, "do not forget that the sting of leather will not be the only thing you will face. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," John replied, voice strained to be kept respectful.

"Good. Now go."

Without a word, John bowed his head to his father and spun around, walking straight out of the study. Every footstep was counted, each one a separate wish made that his path would not be interrupted.

Maybe this marriage truly _was_ his solution, if it could get John far away from _him_.

—

If Valerie had to endure yet another gathering at her home with Lady Linder, she was sure to combust. The woman asked more questions than her own mother did, it was beginning to feel suffocating, especially when it was all for nought. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, she was expecting yet another invitation to some garden or fancy house or other.

What she was not expecting was _him_.

She had hardly any time to prepare herself between being told that her intended was at the door and him walking through the doors to the drawing room. Valerie had to blink once or twice to truly process what she was seeing. John Linder had walked in, dressed in beautiful blacks and navy, holding a bouquet of such simple and elegant flowers in his hand. His eyes fell upon her and she could have sworn she saw a little smile from him.

He—

_What?_

"Lord Linder," her mother spoke with such charm, walking around her couch and up to John. Valerie could see a faint spark of a wince in his expression when addressed, making her all but cautious of his intent. "What a wonderful surprise to have you in our home! Those are lovely flowers, for my daughter I presume!"

"Actually, my lady, they are for you. In thanks for accepting me into your home and for the sudden intrusion," he replied with a charming smile toward her. "As it is, I'm sure I have many years ahead of me to fill Lady Valerie's life with all sorts of flowers." John then glanced at Valerie.

Good _God_ , her mother could _not_ have been falling for it. _Surely_ she could see it for how thick of a lie this was. It had to be. She had to remind herself that this was the exact same man that had been behaving in such an abhorrent manner.

"My, my, Lord Linder—"

"Please," he interrupted. "Call me John. You are to be my mother-in-law after all, my lady."

"Very well, John. I'm sure you will be making an honest woman of my daughter, and a very happy one indeed," she turned to smile at Val, who had a forced one prepared in return. "To what do we owe this complete pleasure?"

"I've come to personally invite yourself and Lady Valerie to Willowspring Gardens this afternoon. My mother and I would be glad for your company," he said, now looking at Valerie.

She could see it clearly behind those eyes of his—this was anything but sincere. There was no reason why a man such as him should change in behavior so suddenly, there _had_ to be an explanation. Valerie opened her mouth to say as much, her anger getting the best of her, when her mother intervened.

"Well, that would be _lovely_ , wouldn't it darling?" she asked her.

Valerie saw the urgent look in her mother's eyes, and then returned her gaze to her intended. "Yes. That would be _wonderful_."

Perhaps it was her imagination, or perhaps John did truly take a deep breath, as though in relief. Something was not right.

—

Willowspring Gardens. A rather large expanse of beautiful, green land that was paved and maintained for daily use. It was astonishing in its natural grace, and a comforting place to visit. Yet somehow, Valerie could _not_ unwind in the slightest.

Her arm was linked through John's as they walked a handful of feet ahead of their mothers. Scattered along the path and in the grass, by patches of trees or small ponds, were other people of varying stations—all of them still of nobility or in high social standing. It was exhausting to look at. Every single young woman of her age, playing the exact same game, putting on the exact same pretenses and waiting for the exact same results. They would all tear each other down to climb higher, if it were deemed _proper_.

It was rather difficult for Valerie to maintain her smile, her polite expression and young lady's grace as she walked alongside her intended. Her inner bitterness and anger did not manage to escape in any other way than the one that mattered. Her words.

"I must say I did not expect this from you in the slightest," she admitted through a forced smile, looking ahead.

"Then perhaps you should start expecting even more," he replied.

"What exactly are you hoping to accomplish here, my lord?" Valerie asked.

"Your hand in marriage, was that not obvious?" he raised a brow at her.

Valerie scoffed, shaking her head as her smile faltered. A moment later, she glanced at him once with furrowed brows. "And those flowers? Did you purchase them before, or _after_ you buried your face between another woman's legs?" That seemed to shut him up well enough, wipe away that _stupid_ smile of his and replace it with the grimace she was so used to seeing.

"I admit," he finally spoke after nearly a minute, "I do regret the other night."

"Regret the act, or regret getting _caught_ , my lord?" she asked, leaving him searching for words yet again. Valerie turned her head away from him, eyes idly darting from one puffed up dress to the next. "This will not work, you know. It may be arranged, but soon the game will end and the lustre of our match will fade and they will see that this will result in nothing but disaster."

"What makes you think they will even care?" he mumbled, his voice deep and quiet.

"They will see," Valerie assured. "My parents, they will see you for who you are. You will not fool them much longer. You see, my lord, you are arrogant and selfish, and your ego is easily larger than a mansion."

"Huh," he huffed with surprise, "I'm surprised you managed to see mine from behind yours."

Valerie's head darted toward him, eyes stuck in a glare as her mouth bobbed open and shut, struggling what to say to that. She did not get the chance to reply right away as another voice cut her off immediately.

"Johnny!"

A man approached the pair of them with a laugh and John pulled away from her momentarily, bracing himself. The man, dressed in black and silver, marched right up to John and pulled him into a hug. John returned the motion, and Val could see him laughing in return— _true_ laughter. When the man pulled away, she got a good look at his face and froze. That man was truly handsome, particularly in his smile.

His hair was already graying in places even though the man did not look a day over thirty. He had such a charming gaze, warm and welcoming, and Valerie couldn't help but wonder if that in itself was an act too, if he was friends with a man like John.

They spoke to one another as though they were entirely too familiar. The man's hands were clasped at John's shoulders, holding on as one would do with a dear friend. His eyes then fell upon Valerie and his expression turned into wonder and surprise.

"And this must be your beloved intended, I presume?" he asked.

"Lady Valerie Palencia," John replied, about to continue when V interrupted him.

"Rose." They both looked at her. "Valerie _Rose_ Palencia."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," his friend replied, though neither of them were looking at him at that particular moment. So, naturally, the man cleared his throat.

"Oh, where are my manners—" John began.

The man snorted a chuckle, "What manners?" He attempted to suppress the smile on his face, much like Val did, when John gave him a pointed look.

"This man..." John continued, "Is Lord Kerry Eurodyne."

_Of course!_ "Lord Eurodyne..." Valerie repeated, bowing her head slightly. "Your reputation precedes you, my lord."

Kerry reached for her hand. "Only the good parts, I hope," he jested, placing a gentle kiss upon the back of her hand. "I see your bride-to-be is well read, and seems far too sweet for the likes of you." Another joke, she presumed, as John continued smiling.

"I agree," he replied. "A lady to write your sonnets and limericks about, to be sure."

What?

Valerie could feel Kerry's eyes observing her, so she put on the sweetest smile she could and looked up at them both. Before she could speak, Kerry spoke up with a charming lilt. "I believe I can finally see what all the fuss is about. My sisters have not stopped going on and on about 'Lord John Linder's new bride'. It was all I heard them talk about when I first arrived back in London."

"Well, I too hope it was only good things," Valerie replied with a soft chuckle.

"Only the best," he replied, his eyes studying her a moment longer. Finally, he took a breath and smiled at his friend. "Well, I shan't keep you both any longer. Enjoy the rest of your walk and, Johnny, we shall speak soon."

"That we shall, Kerry."

"Lovely to meet you, Lady Valerie," he bowed his head to her.

"The pleasure was all mine, my lord," she curtsied in return.

Once he had walked off and back to his company, John and Valerie linked arms and continued to walk, their mothers watching closely as they followed. Valerie barely had a moment to let all that had transpired sink in before Johnny spoke again.

"Flawless responses on your part, you must practice it often," he mocked.

Valerie sighed deeply, "It was not my place to tell a friend of yours that your engagement is in shambles."

"How considerate of you."

"You chastise me and yet putting on a face for the world comes just as easily to you," Valerie shot him a frown that slowly turned into a hollow smirk. "I'm glad to know I was right that a true compliment was beyond your emotional capabilities."

"I never said they were untrue."

Val's breath hitched in her throat once more.

_...What?_

"Say what you will," Valerie replied. "Whatever it is you are planning, it will not work. I will see to it. This marriage that you are so displeased about, you need not worry about it any longer."

His grip on her arm tightened a _fraction_ and she wondered if he even realized it. While she expected him to be overjoyed about it, maybe even throw a snarky comment toward her at the very least, she did not expect him to fall so sullenly silent beside her. Either way, she did not care.

One way or another, they would separate.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny can't stop thinking about Valerie, her promise filling him with dread. Valerie attempts to make good on her promise, being reminded of her duty in the process.

Rose. Valerie _Rose_ Palencia.

The name rung in his mind over and over in the carriage ride away from the gardens. Johnny leaned his elbow against the edge of the window, his teeth gently grazing the edge of his thumb as he watched the great outdoors. A prissy, self-obsessed woman did not deserve such a beautiful name—or such beautiful eyes. Perhaps true justice would be to tie her to the name Linder and sully that name forever. No. Even he couldn't be that cruel.

Johnny cursed at himself silently, hating the fact that his ability to find a woman attractive had been compromising his thoughts so easily. He couldn't help but wonder what had gone through Valerie's mind in the entire exchange, especially after she had caught him. Such a vulgar display, it must have been, for a woman with her virtues and senses still intact. Did she even know anything about the act of making love? About what went on between the sheets—or on the desk in a study, for that matter—or was she like every other young lady in society, kept in the dark?

"Oh, stop your brooding," his mother spoke from across the carriage. "Truly it could not have been that bad a stroll."

"It wasn't," he replied.

"Then why the sour look on your face?" she asked him.

_This marriage that you are so displeased about, you need not worry about it any longer._

There was a pit in his stomach that he could not appease, that he could not get rid of no matter how much he tried to reassure himself. "It is nothing, mother. I assure you, everything is fine."

"Good," she replied, her eyes looking out the other window. "I would hate to see what would become of you should this fail."

"Must you and father remind me of it every time I do a good thing?" Johnny looked at her.

"We only want what's best," she replied sternly.

'For you,' were the words most mothers would add, but his mother said no such thing. That was the problem, though he could not voice that opinion so clearly. They had always wanted the best and did not hesitate to remind him that he, their only child and heir, was in fact _not_ the best.

Well, it was nothing that a late night visit to the club wouldn't fix.

—

"Mother," Valerie called softly as she stepped into the drawing room.

Her mother had been sitting in the lounge chaise for the past hour or so, sewing endless patterns and lost in thought. She glanced up at her daughter and spared a smile before returning to her needlework. "What is it, darling?"

"I wanted to speak to you," she began, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "About Lord John."

"I was worried he was uninterested at first, in the way he behaved at the introduction, but he's been rather lovely hasn't he?" She smiled down at the fabric as she pushed the needle through.

"I'm sure he has," Valerie sighed, walking further into the room. As she got closer, her mother motioned her over.

"Your father and I have discussed the matter with the gracious Lord and Lady Linder. There are many things underway to ensure the wedding moves forward. In less than a month you shall—" her mother paused, looking up at her daughter. "You shall become a wife, with your own home to tend and, hopefully soon, your own children to raise."

Valerie watched as her mother's eyes filled with so much pride and love. She opened her mouth to bluntly object, but could not find the right words. She glanced down at what her mother had been working on, seeing a beautiful pattern of roses around an unfinished hummingbird. Her mother was always so much better with her needlework, always good at seeing the finer details.

"This one is for you. You love your roses, and I certainly hope the gardens of your new home will be abundant with all kinds of rosebushes. If not, you will take these with you. To remind you of home, at the very least," she told her.

There was an excitement in her mother's eyes that Valerie had not seen in a long time. She felt an aching in her heart knowing that she would be disappointing her mother even further with her next words. All she needed to do was tell her the truth, tell her of John's misdeeds, of his unacceptable behavior and ill intentions. All she needed to was speak about it and maybe, just _maybe_ she might help convince her father to call it off.

"It took so much work, such hard work from the both of us, to get you where you are now. You have finally blossomed into a fine young woman, Valerie. You've finally learned the true and proper ways of what it is to live as a woman in this world," the older woman put down the needle for a moment to instead take her daughter's hands in hers. "You've learned so much from the errors of your ways, and I am so _proud_ of you, of how far you've come. Soon you will leave this place, and you will have the world at your fingertips."

That was it. There was no way she could do what she came here to do. Her mother would never in a million years be happy with her forgoing her duties for a chance at true _happiness_. Many women learned to love their husbands well after their marriages, and many women have lived and died with this tradition.

It wasn't as though she could just tell her mother about Laurence and expect her to be alright with her courting an artist—especially when it was an artist of a much lower social standing than her family. He wasn't nobility, he did not have much money to his name and he did not have large lands or businesses to tend to, and the only people that would care of those details were her family. She fell in love with Laurence regardless of any of those things.

There was no way that she could pursue that happiness with John Linder as her intended. Though, she wasn't entirely sure that he even cared. After all, he was the one seen having physical relations with a married woman. Perhaps he would not care if she were to continue her own—she was not expecting him to fall so deeply in love with her, after all. However, she wondered if maybe he was one of those disgusting, possessive men that would turn into absolute pigs after marriage, sharing a bed with countless others beyond his wife while restricting her to such taut boundaries.

Valerie would not put it past him. She could not tell the future, not with him, not with Laurence, not with anyone. So, she put on a smile once more, a fabrication almost as flawless as her mother's needlework, and she set aside her grievances. Whatever they were, they were not worth her mother's disappointment.

—

It wasn't as though he had entirely forgotten the fact that she was intolerably _boring_. It was those God forsaken eyes that would not leave his mind. In the throes of pleasure, his length buried completely in the first woman that had paid any attention to him at the club, all he could do was think about that insufferable debutante.

Holding the woman's wrists above her head, he ground his hips against hers, feeling her legs pull him closer and closer. This was no desperate married woman wanting a quick release, but a woman who _knew_ what she was here for. This was a woman with no fear of her reputation, and they knew best just how to make him feel good.

Maybe he should marry this woman in front of him, a true act of rebellion to bind his future with her before God, one last condemnation toward his father. _No_ , he could not be thinking about that now, so he struck the thought out of his mind. That only made room for _her_ to return.

With a growl, he dipped his head into the nook of the woman's neck, the woman whose name he could not even remember, and he continued to thrust into her hard and fast. Her calls filled his ears like a sweet melody, and with his eyes closed, his mind formed a clear image before his lids.

His intended, splayed out so delicately in a compromising position beneath him, taking his lust and his passion in full while calling his name out. John wasn't entirely sure if what he felt was anger or complete, unbridled arousal, as it was enough to send him well over the edge. He let go of the woman's wrists so as to not hurt her, and instead clenched his fists around the sheets beneath the pair. His hands balled up into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He was sure that this woman had left behind a few, long and very red souvenirs along his back. These ones would heal in a matter of days. These ones, he enjoyed. With one final lingering kiss, he pulled away from the woman. It was still far too early in the evening; his pockets were too full, his urges not quite sated and his throat a little dry from the lack of drink.

If he was to silence his mind from the thoughts of disappointment and marriage and the living marionettes that were the women of his society, he had a lot more work to do.

—

Later that night, Valerie had returned to her room and changed into her nightgown. She sat in front of her vanity, thinking silently to herself as her maid brushed her hair. She had the maid tell her of the goings on of the day, to tell her anything she could to distract her mind. Her mind, however, seemed to be distracted already.

There was much to do if her future was truly set in stone. Maybe she could have found a different suitor, maybe there still was some time before the wedding to find someone willing to contest the proposal with his own. Her mind was filled with a million and one maybes as she wondered just why she could not simply be happy. The life of a woman was far too difficult a life to maintain, and yet it was her only job and expectation. How could one, singular expectation weigh so heavily upon her shoulders?

Looking at the mirror, she examined herself a moment. She had not yet cleaned the rouge from her cheeks and the faint dark browns from her lids. She had not yet felt tired enough to end her day and begin anew. There was much on her mind and Valerie required a sense of comfort that she would not get from a good night's sleep.

Valerie glanced up at her maid through the mirror with intent, her heart beginning to race. "I think I shall take a stroll tonight, Emily. I will need a simple gown to be fitted into," she told her, then gave her a pointed look. "Prepare my _night cloak_. I shall need it again."

The maid's hand froze for a moment and then slowly slid the brush down the rest of the way. She gave Valerie a knowing look and a deep bow of her head. "At once, my lady."

As Emily scurried away, Valerie looked into the mirror again, wondering just how many more of these strolls she could take unnoticed. How many of them she could take before she would have to end them altogether. Alas, that was a thought to be considered later. Tonight... she sought some momentary freedom.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie finds comfort in a secret, late night rendezvous while Johnny contemplates his next move, not realizing that he can't stop thinking about her.

Everything else in the world always found a way to melt away whenever she would come here. The backstreets that lead to Calhoun's were always dark with a golden glow. The lights and candles burned bright to keep the rather unusually lively street illuminated. This was one of the few places that Valerie could go without anyone batting an eye, for everyone went here for discretion.

Calhoun's was not a place one would go if they were truly proud of their actions. Here, one would see men gambling away to their heart's content, people keeping improper friends company, women getting a chance to meet with those they truly loved.

After all, that was why Valerie had come here, was it not?

Calhoun's was not an establishment she would have liked to frequent, but the many rooms that it provided were available either for temporary use, or for rent. She would not come if her dearly beloved did not reside in one of them. After all, it was the best thing he could find that did not leave him out in the street.

Tugging her hood down low, Valerie walked right into the establishment and paid no mind to the people around her. The entire chamber was raucous with laughter and mirth, the aromas mixed with barley, fading perfumes and sweat. The ground she walked on was rather sticky and she dared not wonder why. Men spoke loud and free around round tables, women sat beside whomever they wished, and the room was free.

Moving past the crowd, Valerie walked right into a long corridor lined with doors, each one numbered. The moment her eyes landed on '23', she knocked on it a few times and waited. Her heart was in her throat and her hands constantly tugging at one another. A metal click sounded before the door swung open.

In front of her stood a man with golden skin a touch darker than hers, with deep Auburn hair and a full beard. He stood a good head taller than her, wearing a loose white shirt and black pants. His hands and thighs were stained with a myriad of colors in smears of paint. What was a frown turned into pleasant surprise as Valerie pulled back her hood—and _smiled._

With a playful growl deep in his throat, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and ass, picking her up effortlessly. Valerie shrieked with laughter, holding onto his shoulders as he carried her inside. The man kicked the door closed without looking and without effort, slowly sliding her down against his body and to the ground. Sparing a short glance at one another, they soon broke the distance and kissed deeply. Valerie sighed against his lips, parting only slightly but still holding on.

"My love, what a _wonderful_ surprise," he breathed against her mouth. "You had not told me you would be visiting tonight."

It was posed as a question, so she nodded. "I'm sorry, Laurence. I needed to see you, it's... Been a difficult day."

"Then let me ease all your troubles for you." When she looked up, she saw him looking so intently into her eyes. A single finger traced along her cheek as Laurence tilted her head up for him.

Kissing her lips once, he moved his lips to her neck and began with soft, small pecks. Valerie shut her eyes and moaned against him, fingers wrapping tight around his shirt. "I don't have a lot of time, love. You needn't worry about haste."

It was as though she had unleashed a torrent, a hurricane, as Laurence proceeded to heed her words immediately. He picked her up, walking over to his desk and swiping a large portion of the paints and brushes on it clean off. She tried her best to kiss him when she could, feeling his hands roam across her body, down her thighs and calves. He bunched up her skirts in his fists, pulling them up as high as he could so that he could reach her.

Valerie pulled on his shirt and grasped tightly at the feeling of his fingers stroking along her opening. He looked at her, smiling as he saw the pleasure bring a splash of pink across her cheeks. Oh how she wished she could undo her blasted corset right then so that he may do with her chest as he pleased. Still, this would have to do.

Shutting her eyes, she tilted her head back and allowed herself to enjoy all that he did to her. He truly had a way with his hands and those full lips of his. As she felt his finger slip inside her, joined by another as his thumb pushed and nudged against her little nub, she leaned back against the wall and allowed herself to moan. As loud as she needed to, she moaned and called his name, hips grinding into his hand.

A vision fell into place as she wondered what those wonderful lips might feel like along her thighs, across her belly, between her legs. She wondered if he knew how to do whatever it was that she saw John do to Lady Baxter. Val bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if it felt as incredible as Laurence's hand, as his gentle touch. She was about to open her mouth to ask him if he knew of the technique, when she felt him taking his position between her legs. She supposed she had waited a touch too long—he was already moving the tip of his length along her folds. My, was she _that_ slick for him already?

With a slow thrust he was inside her again, his chest pressed against hers and his lips pressed into her neck. Laurence's fingers dug into her thighs as he rolled his hips into a slow and steady motion, softly moaning in whispers. "I've missed you, my love."

"I've missed you too, dearest," Valerie crooned into his ear, her fingers tangling into his lush curls.

Their movements soon turned urgent as she begged him over and over to make her feel good, calling his name in a way she knew would make his toes curl. He bit into her shoulder, her neck, her earlobe—gently enough that he wouldn't leave a mark but just enough to let her know he was enraptured by her.

Valerie did not care much about the rest of the world right then, but she particularly paid no mind to her intended. If he felt it was right to have his fun during their engagement, then by no means was she to stop herself. Letting Laurence hold onto her tightly as he let his own release wash over him, Valerie graced herself with her own fingers to allow her to do the same, almost in unison.

When their breathing became one and they gasped so desperately for air, she cradled his face in her hands and whispered sweet things to him as they kissed. He promised her of better days in between every kiss, and she loved him for it.

How could she ever love John this way? An even worse question that lingered, how could she possibly let go of Laurence to live her life with someone like John? How could he ever measure up to this kind of happiness?

He knew nothing of the word.

—

Indeed he did not. For hours on end, Johnny spent his time indulging in the finest drinks when he was not smoking tobacco or tasting a woman between her legs. It was his vice as well as his release, coming to a place like this. It was the reason why his parents chastised him so, and yet he could not leave it behind. It was the one place he was allowed to do things unshackled by expectation or fear, with no repercussion.

In the end, though, all good things must come to an end. John had to remember what awaited ahead of him and had to remember that his job was to secure a wife. Not just any wife, but Valerie of all people. He supposed there could have been worse options. At least she was pretty. Beautiful. Beautiful enough in fact that he had not been able to stop imagining her in place of every woman he had been with that night. He wondered if she would make the same sounds that they did when tangled up in bed with him. He wondered if she would enjoy it, if _he_ would enjoy it.

After all, he never quite liked bedding women whose virtues were unsullied. He never wanted to bear that responsibility. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the act of intercourse would have been pleasurable enough for them to at least tolerate one another.

Once he was well on his way home, he cursed at himself for allowing his inebriated and aroused mind to think such thoughts. She was merely a job, nothing more. A means to an end of a miserable life—of one sort, at least.

The most sobering thought of the night came to him on his way home. She was adamant about trying to end the proposal and separate from him. Johnny's leg bounced, betraying his anxiety as he continued to bite at his thumbnail—a recurring action of late. He did not stop until he felt it sting a little. _Curses_ , he'd been at it too long.

He could not help it, though. Valerie was intent on parting ways with him, but he could not have that. Whether or not he liked it, his entire life depended on her happiness, and not in the way that she would have probably preferred.

He needed to figure out a way to appease her, to win her over. It might be the last chance at happiness he would get. With that, in the long carriage ride, he began to devise a plan that he would think about until morning light, knowing for certain that it would work.

He had no other choice.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny makes an attempt to appease his intended, but things turn south almost immediately. As Valerie tries so hard to understand his intentions, they have a conversation that yields unexpected results.

A perfect snowflake, a feather from a swan, fluffy white clouds on a priceless painting. Those were just a few of the images that flashed in his mind when he saw her. The ball had been arranged in the late evening just for her, by Johnny's request. He had spoken to his mother about arranging such an event so that he may see his intended yet again. When she arrived, he was not entirely sure what to think or feel. All he could do is stare.

Her beautiful golden hair had been put up in braids and tangles, adorned with jewels and flowers alike. Her dress made him think of white rose petals, lined to ruffle the hem of every layer of sparkling gossamer that was used to create the lovely display. It helped that the dress greatly accentuated her grace and her body. As far as arranged marriages went, even if he wasn't sure he'd ever like her, at least she was beautiful. Not even he could deny that.

When she walked in, all he could do was look at her—not just because of her beauty, but because of his plan. He _had_ to remember his plan. John wasted no time excusing himself from whatever conversation he had been taking part in, just so he could walk up to his bride-to-be.

He had taken a little more care with himself this evening. His hair was settled and brushed, and his beard trimmed evenly. He had even let the family tailor have his way with him this time so that he may look as presentable as he needed to be for this evening. If he was to convince her not break the engagement, he had to play his part, as much as it disgusted him.

John had to admit that, when he walked up to her and she saw him, the little gasp she let out had satisfied him.

—

What... in the _world_... was she looking at?

In full black, a stark contrast to her dress, he stood there with a hint of a smile on his face. There was a pointed look in his eye as he looked into hers, and she could tell that there was no illusion as to how things were between them. They both knew that things had begun on a sour note, and there was no pretense. All things considered, though, he looked rather... _clean_. More than that, if she hadn't known any better, she might have even called him handsome.

She had not expected him to be so present this time. When she had heard that the ball was a special invitation from him, she assumed it to be just another way for his parents to win her over—to have her give him another chance. Perhaps she was wrong.

It still wasn't enough to keep her from being so cautious with him through the evening. He had immediately offered to get her a drink, to speak to her, to dance with her, making conversation about this and that, speaking to whatever guest joined them for a time. It was the most active she had seen him in any event so far and it puzzled her completely.

Then, they had gone out for a second dance. Much like the first routine, his footwork was phenomenal and on time. Had this man been the one to meet her on their first day, she might have fallen for him right then and there.

Valerie was thankful that she had seen the truth instead.

"I do not know what has gotten into you," She whispered to him, "but truly you cannot think this changes anything."

That smile on his face that had been lingering for the whole evening had finally faltered. "Perhaps not, but if this is to work then we must try."

Valerie laughed incredulously, shaking her head at how ridiculous he sounded. She then tried to mask that laugh as well as her expression when she remembered that they were being watched. "I did not think you had it in your heart to care about a thing, my lord."

"I care enough about many things, I carry many concerns." His eyes were focused on hers and his voice, for once, sounded all too sincere. "That they differ from yours does not mean that they are not true."

"And what are those concerns of yours? Drinking and dancing freely with others, unbridled by the silly notions of marriage?"

"It comes to you so easily to think so little of me," he stated.

"You give me so little to think about," she replied, although it was not true. She had _definitely_ been thinking of him a lot of late, particularly in the later parts of the night when her mind would remember that crease in his naked back as he—

The pair of them were interrupted by the music's end, their motions coming to a halt. John pulled his hands away and dropped them to his sides, bowing his head to her. There was a look on his face that she could not quite place. It almost resembled disappointment, but not _quite_.

Quietly, he excused himself and walked away from her. He... He hadn't been offended by what she said, had he? Was his ego so easy to damage? It wasn't until a little while later that she realized he had not returned to the ball at all. It took a few minutes of constant searching and her mother's bothersome meddling for her to finally go looking—properly. She was certain she would not find him within the crowd, otherwise he would have shown his face in the main hall at least once or twice since parting. Remembering their private encounter from days past, she decided to sneak away and search the upper floor.

Nearly ten minutes later, she stumbled upon that same study once more, knocking gently before opening the large doors with a low creak. There, standing before the mahogany desk holding a whiskey glass in hand, stood Johnny. He turned around, a long sigh escaping his lips as he saw her.

"Were you expecting another?" Valerie raised a brow.

"I wasn't expecting anyone." John took a drink from his glass. "It isn't proper for you to be here alone with me, my lady. You should return to the ball." He turned away from her, eyes focusing on a painting on the wall behind him.

"To hell with propriety," Val replied casually, shutting the door behind her and getting his attention. "What? It's not as though our union is at all a conventional one," she shrugged.

"Indeed."

"You seem to spend a lot of time in here," Val pointed out, looking around the room briefly.

"Because it was to be mine. This study." John sipped from his glass.

"Was?" She asked.

"Forgive me, my lady, but is there something you need?" He finally asked her, seeming much to tired and unbothered.

"There are many things that I need, but what I _want_ is to understand," Valerie looked at him, entwining her gloves fingers together in front of her.

"Understand what?" He frowned.

"You."

"What is there to understand?" He asked, gesturing widely with his free hand.

"The day of our first meet, you drink nearly half of what there is to drink—"

"A little exaggerated..." he interrupted.

"—and spend most of the time as far away from me as you can until that dance. After which you did not speak to me. Then when you finally did, it was on a different day, right here, after... all... _that_..."

"So I _did_ give you something to think about," he smirked.

"See—you just—" Valerie sighed heavily, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath to simmer her anger down to a halt. "You gave so little effort, and now suddenly it's flowers and garden strolls and ballroom dances and sweet talking. What changed?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I do, truly, find you beautiful? Surely you must believe that you are," he pointed at her, gesturing to her head to toe.

"And why is that, Lord Linder?" She folded her arms. His eyes shot up at her when she called him that. "Because I am a woman looking to marry, is that it?"

John scoffed, taking a drink from his glass and looking away from her. So she stepped forward, her hands in front of her again. "You see..." Valerie began. "The problem that stands between us is that you believe me to be a porcelain doll, my lord. The difference between me and a doll is that once you crack open its pretty, painted exterior, you find nothing within. You see, with a doll, people work so hard to ensure that the outside is attractive and appealing enough to sell, that they forget to devote any time on what to place within."

He glanced at her, almost in consideration.

"I am no porcelain doll. I am not fragile, and I am not hollow. Had you ever tried to break past my exterior, my lord, you would see that there is much more to me than the silly games I have to play to survive in this world." Her heart began to pound in her chest.

She had never voiced her thoughts so clearly like this, even in her most rebellious days. She felt these words come so naturally to her, though, it was easy. Especially in front of him. "You have no idea the sacrifices I've made to get here, I will _not_ let you make my efforts be in vain."

"What could you possibly know of sacrifice?" He grimaced, turning away from her again to take another drink.

"I know more than you think," she raised a brow.

"Yes of course, forgive me," he mocked. "It must be a difficult life having to decide between silks and satin, how presumptuous of me to assume otherwise."

It continued to baffle her just how easily he was able to be so _rude_ and detached. "Have you _ever_ known love or empathy? _Ever?_ Is it actually that possible for a man to be so withdrawn?"

He brought the glass to his lips. "Am I that far from the truth?"

"You could not be further," she said.

"Then please, do tell me, I have the entire night to waste."

"That is exactly what it would be. A waste." There was no point in reasoning with the man. She did not need to be here. As she turned to leave, she felt his hand wrap around her arm to stop her.

"Wait," he called, immediately letting go when she looked at him. "Look, my lady... I don't like this any more than you do—"

"I do _not_ believe you!" She scoffed, her brows pinched as she shook her head. "I cannot believe I've had to lose my chance at love, at _true_ happiness— _twice_ , might I add—only to be landed with the likes of _you_." She let out a dry chuckle, pain now evident on her face. "I could have found someone _worth_ all that loss, all that pain. I could have found someone who brought me flowers because he _meant_ to, to make me _happy_ , not to win me like a prize."

"Is that you want, a basket of flowers?" he frowned.

"It's not about the _bloody_ flowers it's about—" she took another deep breath in attempts to hold her anger in, but it wasn't just anger that she felt. It was a strong pang of pain in her heart as she gave in to her sadness. "I _had_ someone. I had someone long ago, and I had another more recently. Both held promise of such a life for me, and yet... One was sent away, and the other I must soon forget. Each time, I've had to look beyond what I wanted because of duty. _Responsibility._ Because of _you_."

"Well I am sorry for causing you _such_ great discomfort, Lady Palencia, but it is out of my hand," John replied, his voice rising slightly.

"But _you_ are the man, your word is held in higher regard than mine! You can call it off, _end_ this!"

"And what of my sacrifices? What of all that I've had to deal with?" he barked, hands gesturing at his chest. "Say that I do break our union, our engagement, what then? What would your precious ladies of high society say when the wild, reckless and abhorrent son of the great _Lord Linder_ would not have you?"

She had no response to that, other than to blink in realization.

"What of the pretty little men you chase?" he hissed. "I leave, I sully your name. I stay, I spoil your virtues. Do _not_ think I would be happy about either one."

When he turned around, he went back to his desk, taking a bottle from it to pour more of the brown liquid into his glass. He spared no second to be drinking from it the second the glass hit his lips. Val walked forward slowly, taking a deep breath through the nose to discourage any congestion and refresh herself from all the emotions she had been feeling.

She reached the desk and turned to lean herself against it. A moment later, she reached for his glass, taking a drink from it herself. "Well, you won't have to worry about _one_ of those things," she admitted. It seemed to take the lord a mere ten seconds to understand what she meant. His head slowly panned toward her as he stared at her incredulously. "Wh—" she blinked, "Why else did you think I did not scream of your indiscretions to the first person I came across that day?"

"So you, too, have found yourself in tangles with another before marriage," his brows furrowed.

"Regularly. Much like you, only... I love the man, and I've only ever been with him. Physically, that is," Valerie replied, taking another drink. "Like I said. Just another thing I will be sacrificing for this marriage."

Without warning, Johnny stepped in front of her, placing a hand on either side of her on the desk. "You chastise me to no end for my relations with women, when you yourself have your own little secret?"

"I do not chastise you for your preference of... activities. I _chastise_ you for doing so after our engagement, _during_ our courting." Valerie pressed a finger at his chest to keep a distance between them while still holding the glass. "But seeing as how you did not care, I decided that I too would not care about such a thing. A few days ago, to be exact. But that would have to stop once we are properly married."

John stared at her a moment longer, making the woman wonder if she had done the right thing by admitting it. What if he were to use it against her? It was his word against hers, after all, all he needed to do was to tell someone that—

"I do not care if you continue meeting with him. You can see him all you like, if that is to your convenience." John brought out another glass, filling up to a third of it.

Valerie raised a brow at him, tried to process his words, and then her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Convenience. That's it!" She pushed off the desk so fast, it rattled, making the liquid in his glass slosh around violently. Valerie opened the door to ensure no one was listening before shutting it again. "I know what we must do."

"Please, enlighten me."

"We get married as planned, no fuss, no issue. You court me, flirt with me, show your intentions are true and pure and I shall do the same," she explained.

"That would require—"

"Hush," she pointed at him and he frowned. "We do this, and it will get _your_ parents off your back and my parents off mine. We leave our homes to go to one where we will be free to do as we wish. You can continue your... whatever it is you like to do, and I shall be free to see my Laurence. It _works_."

He remained quiet for a moment, studying her, studying his drink, taking a sip—then he spoke. "What happened with you and your two loves—that is not sacrifice." Val was about to argue when he raised a finger to interrupt. "Sacrifice is voluntary. I doubt you would have chosen to leave them behind if you had any other choice. It is not sacrifice, it is _injustice_."

For the first time since they had met, Valerie looked at him with a bit of respect. He was right and she had not seen it. Standing a little stunned, she waited with bated breath for his answer, his opinion. She waited for him to either accept or to yell at her and tell her she was just a stupid little woman.

"Alright," he began, taking his glass and glancing at her. "We will move forward with this plan. You help me appease my parents and I shall keep yours from taking your beloved Laurence away from you."

Perhaps she was completely mistaken in thinking that she had not been so fortunate in meeting the man. If this worked and he played his part, then John Linder had just become the _best_ match for her yet. Valerie smiled in such a way that it betrayed her excitement, her _hope_ , and she stepped forward to raise his glass to him. "Then I believe we have an accord, Lord Linder."

There it was again, that wince of his. "John."

"What?"

"Lord Linder is my father, and him alone," he told her, "Call me John."

"Very well, then. John it is."

They clinked their glasses and each took a long sip, knowing there was a lot to be done if this was to work properly.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having made a breakthrough in their predicament, a new bond blooms between Valerie and Johnny. It is immediately tested when light is shed on some truths.

The pair had returned to the ball separately, not wanting to draw too much suspicion as it was. After a little bit of mingling, Johnny had found Valerie again, inviting her out for her final dance. It was fortunate for them that this dance was a joyful and sprightly tune, giving them much to work with. The laughter and smiles that they gave each other were partly fabricated for the public, but partly formed from their shared relief in having found a way to make things work.

Johnny held her close by the hand and waist, watching as the loose curls of her golden hair bounced and flowed around her. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, the greens ever clear in the lights above as she looked up at him, and her smile—the brightest thing in the entire hall. Still, it was nothing like the one she gave him in the study. She was happy, _joyous_ , completely ecstatic after his response. She must have truly loved the man she was doing all of this for if it warranted a smile like that.

He wondered if this Laurence of hers appreciated the smiles she'd give him.

He told himself that he need not bother with thoughts like that any longer. He would not look a gift horse in the mouth, not this time. This time, he was ready accept his lot.

—

A few nights later, Valerie entered Calhoun's on a much different note than before. She was excited and happy, she had news to share with Laurence that could not wait. She hoped it would have been enough to appease him, enough for him to live with. It had to be, for it was all she had left to give.

Turning the corner, mere feet away from her favorite door, she spotted a servant girl leaving his room. The girl had bundles of linen and cloth in her arms, all covered in paint. Her apron and hands in particular were smeared in colors as well. Seeing Valerie come from around the corner, the girl jumped a little but continued to walk past her without stopping. Once Val walked up to the room, she could see why.

The floor around the desk was covered in art supplies, a bit of paint had been smeared off of the canvas currently mounted on Laurence's easel, and his tables were in disarray. Well, more so than usual.

Once Valerie shut the door behind herself, she heard Laurence speak. "I believe that's everything." He turned around, hands fiddling with his shirt as he buttoned it up, taking a step before realizing Val had been standing there. "Dearest..."

"What happened here?" Val asked, looking around the room as she slid her hood down.

Laurence walked up to her, "I let my temper get the better of me, got paint _everywhere_ , especially the floor."

"Paint and half of your supplies, it seems," Valerie joked.

"You know me and my frustrations," he shrugged before placing both hands on her cheeks to kiss her. "You must excuse the mess. I tried to clean it as well as I could, even had a servant girl help me."

"I saw," she replied, unclasping her cloak.

"Well, what brings you here, dearest?" he asked her, stepping back a moment and looking around the room.

"Can't I drop by on my dearly beloved?" Valerie chuckled.

"Oh, I—" Laurence looked at her, giving one quick glance at her dress. "Of course, my love, I'm always ever glad you're here."

"Then let us put aside this talk," Val replied, moving over to him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He took her in immediately, holding her tightly against his own body as they kissed feverishly. They moved against each other until they bumped into one of the tables. Leaning against it, Valerie told him of the new arrangement she had with her intended, and that she was no longer to stop seeing him after her marriage. To express his joy in the matter, Laurence had his hands upon her skin within a matter of seconds, his lips graciously kissing every part of her neck and shoulder they could reach.

With a laugh, she kissed him again and felt her body relax instantly under his touch while her mind let go of her fears. It was calming to realize that she might finally get the happiness she had always dreamed of, while possibly finding a friend in Johnny in the process.

While Laurence was far too worn from his day to focus on himself, he wasted no time giving her all the attention he could until she had to leave. When she did, she still could feel his kiss upon her skin, his hands along her thighs, his kisses above her breasts. He continued to whisper his gratitude before watching her twist this way and that to the pleasure his fingers wrought.

It lingered all the way home, and lingered while she remained in bed, too excited to fall asleep right away.

—

"I think it might just be best to avoid any sort of attention," said Johnny.

"I disagree," Val replied. "The more they see us getting along, the easier it would be to convince them that this union is pure."

"They already _have_ been seeing us, and besides, I do not think they care, Va—" he looked ahead, a few ladies walking just past them, "— _My lady_."

Valerie tried to suppressed her smile as he shook his head. "It's almost over, John," she whispered. "Soon we won't have to dangle ourselves around in front of the world."

"A day I look forward to most. When this is all finally over," he sighed. Valerie had no time to question whether that also meant their current mutual peace and truce, as he took one look around before leaning in to whisper. "How was your meeting with your... _friend?_ "

As they walked through the garden past a few guests, they stopped in the corner of the courtyard, a line of tall hedges at their backs. "It was lovely, thank you for asking," she replied, watching as various men and women mingled across the Linders' back gardens. Weeks of constant gatherings and chaperoned visits, and yet it was these gardens she looked forward to most. Even the Keenes were here, and Valerie had noticed that the Lady Eleanor had eyed Johnny a number of times since her arrival. What she also noticed was that not once did he return the gaze.

He sure knew how to play the part.

"I keep forgetting to ask. Was he happy about the news?" he asked her, eyeing anyone that might be too close to them.

"Happy as one could be," she smiled. "He already knew I was to be married, but that I would continue to see him certainly made it easier on him. He was... sure to show me his excitement that day," Valerie bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

Johnny turned to her with complete surprise and amusement. " _Manners_ , my lady." With a smirk, he leaned in to whisper, "And was his excitement... to your satisfaction?"

Val swallowed heavily. "Indeed it was. All I will say is that painting is not the only thing his hands are good at."

"So you've felt his touch, the sensations it could leave behind." Johnny then asked, "Nothing more?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. She would be a liar if she were to say that those words did not excite her a little. Maybe she _had_ been a little too free with her actions if mere words were enough to do that to her. She refused to believe that it had anything to do with the way he was looking at her, the way his voice dropped low and his words carried a little longer.

"Usually yes, but not the night I told him. He was feeling a little tired," she explained.

"The man sees his love once in a long while, to hear they would be free together, and he is _too tired_ to take her to bed?"

"What's your point?" She tilted her head.

"Nothing, just not how I'd have done it." He took a drink from his glass, more of that tasteful whiskey. "So, you enjoy it with him."

She nodded. "He is good to me. Kind and gentle, he knows much about the more _intimate_ acts, though he's... never done what you did that one time."

Johnny had just taken another sip of his drink, having to try not to choke on it when he heard her. He wiped his lips with the side of his knuckle, looking at her. Valerie could see his throat bobbing, assuming it was to do with the drink and not with the sudden spark in his eyes.

"I mean... in the study."

"On a desk?" he asked, his voice a little coarse.

"No, but... you know," she raised a brow.

Johnny then glanced down at his drink with a chuckle, nodding at her words. "You mean he hasn't tasted you."

"No." She threw a glance at their surroundings, stepping a little closer and waiting for the nearby company to move a little further.

"And you?" he asked before she could say a word. "Have you tasted him?"

"I... wh— _no_ , what..." Val could feel her cheeks heating up and she pressed her legs against one another tightly. Try as she might, she could not ignore the tingling between her legs that begged for attention. "My lord, that is... no, I have not."

"Well, it seems there's a bit more for you both to explore, isn't there?" He let out another chuckle, taking a drink. "Perhaps we might find some shade, my _dear_ , your cheeks are getting rather pink in the sun."

Valerie pinched his arm. "It is your fault, you bastard. Now I can't stop thinking about it all."

He let out a low laugh into his drink, "Do not think it was easy for me to maintain my own composure.

What on earth was she supposed to say to that?

—

After some time, the pair of them had left the gardens separately, agreeing to meet in the study once more for a drink. After Valerie mentioned wanting to breathe, away from the eyes of others, the first thought Johnny had in mind was the study. He wondered just how many times they'd be finding themselves in that room, how many times they _could_ come here without being noticed.

They spared no moment in bringing out the glasses to drink. They couldn't dally upstairs for too long. In mid conversation, Johnny noticed Val staring off into space, her foot kicking into the ground softly, absentmindedly. A few words and comments later, she did so again, and again.

"Alright. You're fidgeting. What's on your mind?" He asked, setting his glass down.

"What? Nothing," she shook her head, shifting in place beside him.

"Come on, talk to me, Val." He leaned against the desk idly. "What's the matter?"

Valerie sighed, giving him a quizzical look. "So... How does one do it?" Johnny raised a brow. "You know... What we talked about."

He looked down and smirked, starting to chuckle. "Are you sure you want me to tell you? It could get rather... _Detailed_."

"I'm a grown woman, Johnny." What did she just— "And we are to be married, so... I suppose there is no harm in being open with one another, is there?"

"I suppose not. Alright then." He then took one more drink from his glass before stepping in front of her. Johnny then took her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"First, you must take him with your hand." He could feel his mind racing through the most intimate thoughts, trying hard not to imagine her in them. "Feel him in his entirety, his _length_ , help him... find his arousal." He did not notice how Valerie had stopped breathing, how she watched his movements with care, how her cheeks and neck suddenly felt so hot and her corset a little too tight.

"You caress him slowly, gently, and he will enjoy this. Then, when he least expects it, simply... kiss him. Right..." He took her finger and pressed his own against her tip, "...here. Then... what you did with your hand, you do with your mouth. You take him in, nice and slow. You taste him as you would a spoon dipped in honey. A _lot..._ of honey."

He had leaned in close, looking her in her eyes and finally catching them in a solid gaze. "You keep going until he either wants to be inside you or he reaches his peak. That is up to you both."

"And..." She took a long, staggered breath, "what about him? What does he do for me?"

Johnny was certain that she was about to combust, but he could say the same about himself. He had done these things to others without a second thought, it had become something he thoroughly enjoyed. He had never expected to be explaining it to someone, let alone... Valerie. If this is what she looked like when listening to it, what did she look like when she—

He cleared his throat. "More of the same, though if he does not already know what to do, then I'm afraid I can't help you—" he tried to step back, to retreat, to end the conversation, but she stepped in.

"Tell me. If he doesn't know, I will tell him."

"Like I said." He swallowed that lump in his throat, hard. "More of the same. He'd drag his lips and his tongue right where his fingers would normally touch you, but... you see, tasting a woman in such a manner, it... it is almost like a language. One must be rather fluent in it to truly deliver the, uh..." He paused, realizing their faces were much too close to one another, "...the _true_ meaning." His breath was hitched in his throat. He could not remember the last time he felt so weakened in this state, in front of a woman no less.

"That does not sound like something one can learn overnight," she observed.

"Well if he'd like, I could lead by example," he smirked again, only half joking.

Valerie let out a laugh that was all too bright for the conversation, shaking her head and furrowing her brows. She clutched at her necklace as she did when flustered and stepped back to take a drink. "Speaking of which," she cleared her throat. "I should probably get ready to see him tonight, once the gathering is over."

"Then I shall get ready to _take_ you," Johnny replied.

The lady stared at him for a few long seconds. "To Calhoun's, you mean," Valerie said, still seeming rather flushed head to toe.

"Where else?"

—

It was strange. Valerie had never gone to Calhoun's with an escort, a chaperone. At least not before Johnny. In the weeks they had spent talking and courting each other in pretense, he had taken her there twice. Both times, he insisted on waiting until she was done. She supposed it was better than him leaving her there without any way home. He would often come get her from her family home late at night, when it could be done quietly. She had told him exactly where to wait—somewhere well off the grounds—and had given her servants the exact instructions to help her leave unnoticed. She was lucky they liked her enough to keep doing this.

Having arrived at the tavern, she tugged on her cloak and went inside ahead of Johnny, ever so thankful for his cooperation.

—

Calhoun's was a place Johnny had often frequented before the club. It was easy enough to dive right back into the drinks and companionship, but he laid low for the night. Seeing how comfortably she walked across the wooden floors, past the bends and turns of every table and patron, he wondered just how many times she had come here before.

The more he brought her here, the more he wondered if she would be having a good evening with the man, if he treated her well. He wondered if he'd be doing all the things that Johnny had spoken to her about, and wondered if it would live up to her expectations. His thoughts had been filling up with such things of late, so much so that he wasn't tending to the things that _he_ needed.

A heavy drink. That's what he needed, at least right now. A heavy drink and perhaps some company of his own. As he sat down at a table, he told the barmaid what he preferred and waited. The world around him began to mold into a hum of noise while he was lost in thought.

This man must have been worth it if she was willing to give up a proper marriage for the likes of this place.

His thoughts were ripped away when he heard a familiar name spoken nearby. He decided to do the gentlemanly thing and listen in on the conversation that was occurring in the table behind him.

"Perhaps he would like to take part in this too," one man said. "Gambling is his forte after all."

"No, no, he's busy. Didn't you see his lady arrive?" This one laughed.

"One snap of her finger and he's all hers," the first man snickered. "I wonder if the servant girls do the same."

"Laurence is a man of his vices, I'm sure a rat with tits could do the same," his friend chuckled.

Johnny downed his drink and stood up.

—

It would be the least to say that Johnny was filled with rage, having burst into Laurence's room to find him and Valerie in tangles. Her hair had been pulled down from its bun, her corset nearly undone and her skirts pulled up to her waist. They both pulled away with loud gasps, startled by Johnny's sudden intrusion.

Laurence remained between her legs even though she tried to move aside and make herself decent. "Who are you?" he barked.

"That is my _intended_ ," Valerie hissed at him, tossing a glare at Johnny.

"I thought you said he wanted to _help_ ," Laurence frowned.

"I did," Johnny replied in a terrifyingly cool tone, "until I ran into a few friends of yours. Well, they were rather happy to keep talking of your favorite activities." He watched as Laurence froze. "Is that enough or need I continue?"

Valerie turned to Laurence as the anger in her expression dropped slightly, confusion taking its place. "What is he talking about?"

"I do not know, my love," Laurence replied, his eyes frozen on Johnny.

"Take care how you use those words," Johnny warned, taking a step forward and pointing at the man. "There are only so many people you can make that promise to before it all falls apart."

"Laurence. What is he talking about?" Valerie asked again in dread.

"How long were you planning on keeping up your little deception?" Johnny asked him.

There was a long, pregnant silence between the three of them. When Laurence did not reply or look at her, she stopped fussing with her dress and simply looked at him. Johnny glanced at her and he felt a pit in his stomach grow, seeing her heart breaking right in front of his eyes.

"Beloved?" She asked, her voice breaking.

Laurence glanced at her once, then at Johnny, stepping away slightly. He sighed, his expression and posture changing, relaxing almost, as though he had given up. "A woman comes to your door all desperate, even _you_ do not have the willpower to turn her down. Do you, _Johnny_?"

His hands clenched into tight fists, but he stood still as Val hopped off the table, looking at her beloved in horror. "But... Everything you said to me, your... your promise..."

"Oh, grow up _my lady_ ," he whinged, looking at her in frustration. "You _must_ have known it in the end? Found pleasure in it?" he asked as he gestured at her. "No woman of your standard would ever in her right mind _whore_ herself out in a place like this."

That was it.

Johnny took a step, two, three, grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and swung his right hand into the man's face as hard as he could. Laurence stumbled and fell against his easel, spitting his own blood upon the half-painted canvas. An improvement, he thought. Ignoring Valerie's calls, he walked up to the man and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the door and tossing him out. Laurence, too dazed to object, tumbled against the wall and slid to the floor.

Shutting the door and locking it, Johnny turned to face V, seeing her gaze fixed to the door. Her eyes were wide, and red as her cheeks and lips. He could see the tears starting to spill from her eyes as she shifted in place, trying to make heads or tails out of what had just happened.

"Are you alright?" he dared to ask.

Giving him a look of complete anger, she shook her head. "You're a downright bastard, did you know that?" She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she turned away from him.

"Good of you to finally notice," he ground his teeth. "We're leaving."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she turned, pointing a finger at him. "In fact, I'm going to to _everything_ in my power to ensure I am separated from you for as _long_ as I can be."

"Good, we'll both be free of each other," he hissed, "now hurry up and get dressed."

Valerie slammed her hands down against her stupid, fluffy skirts in frustration. "I can't do that by myself and you know it!" She yelled at him.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Johnny marched over to her, took her by the shoulders and spun her around. He said nothing more than a few mumbled curses as his fingers fiddled with the strings of her corset, tightening it up for her. All he could hear were the sounds of the strings, as well as the quiet whimpering sobs that emerged from her.

He frowned deeply, reaching out to place a hand on her bare shoulder. "That man is not worth your time or your tears."

"Just _shut_ it, my lord," she cried.

_My lord._ Not John. Not Johnny.

He pulled his hand away, continuing to tie her corset. "You're angry with me because I showed you who he truly was?"

"I'm angry because there were about a hundred ways to have done that in a less painful manner!" Valerie yelled.

"If you want to talk about something less painful, perhaps try a simpler corset."

"Oh, just—" Valerie spun around and slapped him. "Get out!"

John stood there, his jaw working as he felt the sting in his cheek. His gaze slowly moved back toward her with unfiltered anger, his hands clenched by his sides once more. She must have noticed, because the moment his eyes fell upon her, she let out a soft gasp and took a few steps back, as though she was—

_Afraid_.

A low, sad chuckle erupted from his throat. He knew that look anywhere, that concern over safety. That was the same look he'd see in the eyes of his servants whenever his father sought to teach him a lesson.

Did she truly think him capable of such a thing? Yes, she had just struck him, something she had probably never done in her life, but she was in the right to do so. Even if she wasn't, he would never lay a hand on her in such a manner. Surely, she knew that?

"Get your cloak too," he spoke calmly, clearing his throat of the rasp. "You will need it."

Stepping around her silently, he walked to the door and waited.

—

The carriage ride back to her home felt so tense. They had not spoken for most of the trip, but mostly because Johnny was too busy thinking about what to say, and Val was occupied with her crying.

Finally, when she had fallen silent, Johnny decided to seize the opportunity. "Val—"

"Don't talk to me."

Well then. He sighed, sparing her a glance and feeling his own heart break a little. Against the moonlight, she looked so serene and _sad_ , her cheeks still wet and reddened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No you are not. You do not care so long as I keep your parents away from you," she barked, having found her voice again. "I will, but trust me my lord—" there it was again, "—I will be keeping you away from me too."

"You cannot," he said, before he could stop himself.

"I beg your pardon?" She whipped her head around to face him.

"Then beg," he frowned. "Because you will _not_ be punishing me for doing what you couldn't, and for getting rid of the man."

Valerie shook her head and scoffed, looking out the window once more. Johnny ran a hand over his face, trying so hard to maintain his composure, to not be yelling out in frustration over her stubbornness.

"Would you have rather spent the rest of your life with him?" He asked her, "found out that it was all a waste, found another woman in his bed, or maybe had him toss you aside or worse, _hurt_ you?" He could see her open her mouth, taking a breath to reply, but choosing not to. "Thought not," he spat, sitting back.

A moment later, she turned to him again, shifting beside him. "How is it that the world has made you so blunt and cruel?"

Johnny let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I am blunt, and that in itself is deemed cruelty. This world that you are so madly in love with is filled with subtlety and lies. I do not lie."

"Not even to your _conquests_?" Val hissed.

He shut his eyes momentarily. "I speak the truth." He then turned to face her once more. "What those women find in me is a taste of rebellion against their parents and society that they get simply by indulging in conversation with me. Those that give in truly have nothing to lose, and it is often those who are not first in line to be married. They use me as a way to make a statement, that they are so bold as to ever consider a man like me in their society."

Valerie's brows furrowed as her eyes darted about in confusion. "But... You are a highly revered noble."

" _No_ , I am a highly revered noble's _son_ ," he corrected her.

"And there's a difference?"

Johnny shook his head slowly, "If, _my dear_ , you cannot see the difference between me and my father, then either you are completely blind in your judgement and hatred towards me, or I truly have not done my part."

"And what part is that?" she asked him.

The carriage came to a halt and the pair glanced outside her window to see the edges of her family's estate. Johnny leaned an elbow against his own window, looking out of it. "You should return to your room, my lady, lest you be seen with me."

She did it again, nearly spoke but shut her mouth. When her door was opened for her, she stared at him a moment longer then stepped out, walking away without a word. Johnny shut his eyes, trying so hard to understand what he was feeling, and why it felt like complete and utter _shit_. The carriage began to move and he opened his eyes again, taking a breath. He began absentmindedly biting into his nail again, unaware of how far it was going until he tasted iron.

He did not dare to think of what his future was to look like now that their plans were completely and utterly _fucked_.


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension between Valerie and Johnny seems to near its end as the pair begin to see each other in a different light. Valerie discovers a disturbing fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe

The wait was torture. Seeing each other was bad enough, but the days that they did not meet, did not speak, did not know what the other was doing—those were pure torture.

Johnny had found himself completely avoiding the usual watering holes he'd visit; the club, Calhoun's, all other activities, they had all been suspended. He found himself taking more and more walks around his estate's gardens or spending more time in the library. During the nights that he'd spend with any friend, he'd simply see them for a little while then excuse himself. The only one that did not take that behavior was Kerry, who sat him down and spoke to him. So Johnny told him everything.

Valerie on the other hand had been forced to fuss over her wedding details with her mother and maids. Being measured for the dress, putting in her preferences and then being spoken over by her own mother, discussing plans with her parents about what to do after the marriage, practicing on her skills and talents as a lady, as she was supposed to. If she held another needle, she was sure to poke someone's eye out, and not on accident. The only person she had been seeing this entire time outside of her family was the Lady Palmer—she did not know much of the goings on, but was happy to give Valerie a good kick in the hinds if she was being too down about herself.

Somehow, as the days passed, it lead the couple back to Willowspring gardens. Their mothers had been hovering around, keeping an eye on them the entire day, but they kept a bit of a distance. Instead of the long walks, they decided to start with a bit more leisure. The mothers took their spot with other women under a rather large shade while Valerie and John occupied a small spot by the pond.

They sat on top of a blanket, a bowl of berries between them that they each had picked at but not really dug into. They had not spoken a word to each other aside from basic niceties, not since that night. Even sitting by the water, well out of earshot, it took them a while before either one of them said anything meaningful. It was Valerie, and it was right to the point.

"Do you wish to be free of me?" she asked him, her eyes stuck to the pond.

"What?" he questioned.

"That's what you said. That night. We'd both be _free_ of each other," she said, and Johnny sighed beside her. Val glanced at him. "Is that what you truly want?"

"If that is what you desire," he replied.

"What of your desires?"

"Why are you asking me these things?" He sat up straight.

" _God_ , I will never get a proper answer from you about anything, will I?" She sighed heavily, shaking her head in anger. Her gaze turned back toward the water as she picked at her hem.

"Do you wish to be free of me?" Johnny asked her.

"Do not worry my lord, I will not break our agreement," she mumbled.

"That is not what I asked," he reminded.

"But it is what you hoped for," Val replied.

"Answer the question."

"Yes," She spat. "No. I don't..." She took a breath, "I don't know."

They remained silent for a minute or two and Val was thankful for it, needing a moment to let her frustration pass. It had not been this difficult to talk to him since they first met, and she had forgotten the steps to this particular dance. Maybe it wasn't the way it was before, but something new altogether. She wasn't sure that she liked it.

"Have you been feeling any better?" He asked her.

"About Laurence?" Val raised a brow, sparing him a single glance. He nodded and she looked to the ground. "I no longer lay awake crying all night if that is what you mean."

Beside her, Johnny shut his eyes and sighed heavily. He hated that she had been feeling that way, and hated that he could not be there to help even more.

"I'm just... angry. Not even sad anymore, just angry. At him, at this _wonderful_ society and its rules..."

"At me?" Johnny asked, not daring to look at her.

"My anger toward you was unfounded. Mostly, I am just angry at myself," Valerie shifted in her place, reaching for a berry to fiddle with.

"What for?" He questioned.

"For not seeing it clearer."

That sparked a bit of his frustration, making him sit forward a little to see her better. "You were looking for happiness. Lie or not, he made you happy."

Val rolled her eyes, tossing the berry. "Happiness is blinding."

Johnny reached out and took her hand in his without warning. "It doesn't _have_ to be..." he argued.

Frozen in her place, Valerie slowly looked down at their hands, then at him. The moment she met his eyes, he pulled his hand away. She was at a loss for words for a few seconds, his touch still lingering in the tingles upon her skin. She felt herself reaching out only a tiny fraction, feeling the urge to take it again, to make things _okay_ again, but she didn't know how.

"I should..." She took a breath, "I should like to go for a walk." She could see him sigh, either in relief or disappointment—she could not tell.

"As my lady wishes," he replied, standing up and holding out his hand.

—

The next day, Valerie had woken up rather early, opting to stay in bed for a little while longer until one of her maids would come to fetch her. She had been doing that a lot. It was easy to waste so much time in that manner when she was not getting enough sleep, when she'd go to sleep with a strained headache and wake up with a sore neck.

By the time she was cleaned, dressed and presentable, she walked down to the drawing room to greet her mother, only to see her smiling widely at her. Her mother had been standing next to the central table, upon which was a beautiful bouquet of white roses in a crystal vase. Valerie's brows furrowed as she approached it, finding no note or card attached, only the message from her mother saying that these were from John Linder, along with an invitation to their home for a rather large celebration. It was to be the last one of the sort before their marriage.

White roses. No wildflowers or orchids or dahlias or tulips, no splashes of unnecessary colors. Simple, beautiful, healthy white roses. She smiled for a moment, wondering why he had sent them. If it was to do with anything they had spoken about, or if it was simply him playing his part. Seeing how her mother praised him for being such a thoughtful groom, Valerie leaned toward the latter.

Still, she could not deny that she found them absolutely beautiful, and that a part of her hoped that she was wrong. Valerie asked her mother if she could move the roses to her bedchamber and did so immediately, wanting to keep them close, right where she'd always see them.

—

Arriving at the celebration, Valerie had chosen an elegant, golden dress to wear for the evening. While she had been getting ready in her chambers, she had asked her handmaid to do something a little special for her hair. Her golden curls had been bunched up into braids, small and broad, and twisted into a bun—into which one of the smaller roses had been pinned. Having often worn flowers in her hair alongside jewels or pins, it felt fitting to use only that this time.

On the other side of the hall, she spotted Johnny standing there in his usual dark colors—with his stupid, handsome face—surrounded by women. Valerie felt herself nearly chuckle at the sight, he looked like a puppy surrounded by a handful of lions. They giggled and laughed and poked his shoulder, they batted their eyelids at him and gestured toward the center of the room, possibly asking him to dance.

He looked like he would rather die.

Valerie laughed, but suppressed it immediately, covering her mouth with her hand. Taking a breath, she looked up at him again and he was looking directly at her. Her smile dropped for a moment, but she tried again as a way of greeting. A few people passed her, nearly bumping into her and apologizing for it. The moment they left, Val looked over to Johnny but could not find him. A quick scan of the room didn't seem to help either, but it wouldn't if he had left it altogether.

_Great_. She wondered if she'd find him in the study, wondered if he'd even want her there. She was in the middle of contemplating it when she heard a slow, casual set of footsteps approach her from her left. They came to a stop and she smiled faintly, her eyes still fixed on the crowd.

"I see you received the roses," Johnny said to her.

"I'm surprised they weren't addressed to my mother," she replied.

"No, to her I'd send an assortment of flowers. White roses... those are only yours," he promised.

Valerie finally looked at him. _God_ , but he was handsome up close, too, particularly with that look in his eye that she could not place. "Why those specifically?"

"The day we made our agreement, that is what you looked like. Among the weeds and leaves," he gestured to the guests, "a singular white rose. Your dress and your name combined, it seemed... fitting."

Eyes wide, Valerie realized she had stopped breathing and inhaled deeply, looking away and feeling flattered. "You're being... _unusually_ charming today."

"Unusually?" he smirked, "I take pride in my charm, my dear, you wound me."

"I'm sure you'll recover quickly enough," Val replied, attempting and failing to hold back a grin. She could not see the way he smiled at her, and the way he continued to do so until she finally spoke. "It was a move well played, my mother surely approved."

There was a moment of silence between them that lasted a second too long for comfort. She felt him lean in to whisper to her, "It was no move."

Her breath faltered, especially as his hand wrapped around hers as he lead her to the open floor for a dance. They swung and moved and she was unsure if they had even been doing the right dance, but all that mattered was that they could not look away from one another. She spent the entire length of the dance wondering what it meant, wondering if she had been wrong after all and if there was more to his action than she thought. Maybe he sent those roses to her as a way of easing that ever-growing tension between them. Or maybe, just maybe...

At the end of the dance, before they could part, Valerie gave his arm a gentle squeeze and glanced over to a set of doors in the hall—beyond which were the stairs to the upper floor. He gave her a single nod, half a smile and parted ways with her. Valerie took a breath, trying so hard to steady that racing heart of hers.

What on _earth_ was the matter with her?

Valerie decided it would be a good idea to mingle a little before slipping away so that their absence wouldn't be noticed so suddenly. Having found her way to her mother, a few other ladies had been around her, including one Lady Palmer. Val had been acquainting herself rather well with her during these gatherings, finding rather quickly that the woman was not afraid to express her opinion. It was a refreshing company to keep amidst all the delicate dolls that paraded around them.

After hearing her mother talk about how _in love_ she and Johnny looked while dancing, Valerie figured it was enough mingling and that she should very much go far away.

—

Approaching the doors to the study, Valerie felt anxious, trying to think of what she'd say. The voices she heard stopped her in her tracks mere feet away from the study. The doors themselves had been left ajar, leaving room for the voices to echo out toward her.

"Do not think me a fool, _boy_." A deep, harsh voice spoke. "Have you forgotten that your entire future rests on this?"

Valerie frowned, stepping closer to listen. "Her intentions to marry are just as strong as mine, my lord," she heard a voice say. Johnny. That was _Johnny_. She had never heard him sound so... quiet.

"They had better be. I will not have you put this union at risk and sully our family name. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear!" The man—Robert, Valerie assumed—scolded him, his voice and footsteps getting closer to the door.

Valerie's eyes grew wide immediately, her heart beginning to pound against her chest as she took a single step back. She swallowed hard, waiting for him to turn the corner, but he did not. She saw his hand grasp the door frame only for him to linger in the doorway inside the study.

"If I hear about your indiscretions _one_ more time, I _will_ show you your place, and it will _not_ be pleasant for you."

Her legs threatened to give beneath her as Valerie stepped back, as quickly as she could while attempting to be silent, which wasn't quick at all. Spotting a door to her left, she opened it immediately, hurrying inside and shutting it behind her carefully. Turning around, she found herself to be in a bedchamber, a small one, with a woman staring right back at her.

She was a small framed woman, somewhere in her forties. She had black hair partly wrapped back with a linen bonnet, brown eyes, a curved nose and thin, rosy lips. She stood there, stuck halfway through folding sheets, staring quizzically at Val.

Valerie stood frozen, looking at the servant. The servant opened her mouth, "My lady—" but Valerie hushed her, holding out her hands. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing louder and louder behind the wood before slowly diminishing. Valerie sighed heavily and stepped forward.

"Please," she whispered. "Please do not tell Lord Linder I was in here."

"Do not worry, my lady," the servant assured. "I will do no such thing."

"Promise me," she begged, stepping forward to take the servant's hands. "Please, promise me."

"I promise you, my lady," the woman spoke calmly. "I would do nothing to bring you or Lord John any harm. You have my word," she told her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," Val sighed, then glanced behind her once. "Could you... could you please check if the hallway's empty?" The servant bowed her head and walked over to the door, opening it to take a peek. She turned to Valerie and gave her a nod. Val walked over to her and took her hands once more. " _Thank_ you."

"Of course, my lady."

"What is your name?" Val asked.

"M-Mary, my lady," Mary replied.

"I will _not_ forget this, Mary." Valerie moved a hand to her arm. "Thank you."

Mary smiled shyly and bowed her head. "You should go now, my lady."

With a nod and a grateful smile, Valerie peeked her head out, taking a quick look of the hallway before hurrying over to the study. The moment she stepped over the threshold, she witnessed Johnny throwing a half-filled glass at the nearest wall with a growl, smashing it into pieces. Valerie jumped in place, startled by the sudden sound. Johnny immediately turned to her, his anger replaced with slight shame as he cursed under his breath.

"My apologies, I... you did not need to see that."

As he spoke, Valerie was already shutting the door behind her and locking it. She then walked up to him without a word and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

Johnny was stunned, slightly tense under her touch as it took a good moment for him to react in any way. He was taken aback by it, but the moment he welcomed it, he wrapped his arms around her torso tightly, burying his face into her neck.

"Two weeks," Val told him. "That's all we have left, _two_ weeks and then you'll be free of him."

Johnny pulled away just enough to look at her, keeping his arms around her. "You truly think that would stop him?"

"I don't know, but it's a start," she replied, moving her hands to his cheeks. "We'll think of something, I'm sure."

Having no words to reply with, Johnny simply stood there and looked at her, his thumbs idly stroking her back. Valerie watched him as well, and in seeing him take a shaky breath, she had a thought. She glanced over to the shattered glass over his shoulder, then toward the desk, giving him a gentle pat on the chest as she pulled away. Val picked up a new glass from the set, filling it with whiskey before handing it to him. "Here. You're shaking."

As he reached over to take it from her, his hands lingered over hers for a moment. He then took the glass, raised it to his lips and took a long sip. Valerie placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Johnny looked down at her hand and smiled faintly, only for a second. He covered it with his own, giving her a nod in thanks and to let her know he was okay.

"Did you get here alright?" He asked her, clearing his throat.

"I got up to the door, but I ended up hiding in a different room when he left. Mary was there, promised not to tell," Valerie quickly explained.

"Mary..." He nodded, his thumb stroking over her fingers. "She's one of my favorite people in this house, has always been good to me, taken care of me. She won't tell a soul."

Val smiled a little at that, but then that smile faltered. "So, when we talked about you being away from your parents... You meant _him_ , didn't you?"

Johnny nodded once, turning away from her to put his glass on the desk.

"His threat... I only heard the end of your conversation. Is it... that bad?" She asked him, stepping closer.

There was a pause, and then another nod.

Valerie remembered something, something she saw when she caught him here with Lady Eleanor. There was a sinking feeling in her gut as she took a breath. "Does it have anything to do with... those lines on your back?" She could see him freeze, his jaw working and hand clenching around the glass. "I'm sorry, I do not mean to pry..." she muttered, reaching for him but pulling back at the last second.

Johnny did not look at her. Instead, he let go of the glass and stood up straight, his hands working at the buttons of his jacket. Once he took it off, he began to undo his vest and shirt, tugging at them as well.

"What are you—" Val tried to ask, watching this.

He placed the articles of clothing over the back of the chair, standing shirtless in front of her as he turned to reveal his back. Valerie brought a hand to cover her mouth, her heart breaking heavily in her chest as she saw, closely this time, just how scarred his back really was. Some of the lines were still pink, they weren't even that old. Taking a staggered breath, she felt her heart pounding against her chest, that aching sadness filling her lungs and clogging up her throat. Without thinking, she reached out a hand, gingerly touching his back with her finger, causing him to flinch and gasp.

"I'm-I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"It's okay," he assured quietly, relaxing immediately. "Go ahead."

Val stepped closer and, a moment later, she reached for a scar and traced her finger along the lines. A few seconds of this had her laying her palm flat against his back. She slowly caressed his skin, trying hard not to tear up, but failing. Saying nothing, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss right at the center, running her finger over it when she pulled away.

It was then that Johnny began to breathe heavily. Standing there, he wasn't entirely sure what to say or do, what to think. It was the only way he could show her just how severe his fathers words really were. It was the only way he could truly show his trust, to explain it to her better than words ever could. He wasn't sure what to expect, but what she did certainly exceeded it. Where others had scratched him up during love-making, where his friends had clapped a hand against him playfully, where his _father_ had struck—she _kissed_.

"Johnny..." she whispered, sniffling. "My dear, I wish I knew..."

"It's as I said," he muttered. "Mary has taken care of me."

Val wrapped an arm around herself and moved her hand back over her mouth. Of all the things she expected when she came up here, she did not think she would see this. She did not realize it at the time that these markings had been left intentionally. She had assumed they were accidental or something that happened when he was a child—oh _God_ , she hoped it did not start when he was a child. Then she remembered the stinging feeling of her hand against his face, how angry he looked, how she recoiled from that anger. She cursed at herself silently, wondering just how much she'd hurt him that night. Yet he still took care of her, he still got her home safe.

"Are you still willing to marry into this?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Knowing what you know now—"

"I'm not leaving you here," Val interrupted.

Johnny turned around slowly to face her. Seeing her tears, he placed a hand upon her cheek and gently leaned his forehead against hers. Valerie wrapped her arms around his shoulders again, closing her eyes. Her hands stroked the back of his neck and through his hair gently. She looked up at him to find him staring back at her, and she did not think. She did not think at all as she pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him.

He was startled by the action but he did not dare to move or pull away, not even an inch. His arms were around her as soon as the surprise faded, and Johnny was kissing her back. A moment later, they pulled away only briefly just to look at each other, to understand that they both wanted this, before holding each other tightly and kissing once more. Valerie gave him a few pecks against his lips right at the end before looking at him, her hands back on his cheeks.

"I promise you. I promise you this will all be over soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHEHEHEHEHEHE


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Valerie's concerns eat away at her, she devises a plan and breaks the rules. Johnny faces a pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves!

For every single day they spent apart, Valerie couldn't help but worry. The roses in her room lasted only a little while before they slowly began to wilt. She made sure to take the one she'd worn in her hair and press it in a book. The rest simply faded day by day, reminding her that more time had passed since their last meet and that the wedding day grew ever closer. It was certainly bittersweet.

When they had just over a week remaining, Valerie began to hatch a plan. It all started with a letter to Lady Palmer, asking her for a favor. When getting the response she was hoping for, she had another letter sent. She had one of her maids send a letter to Mary, giving her specific instructions. That threw her nerves into a mix once more for the entire day as she waited for a response.

Later in the evening, a message was delivered in form of a small letter. Valerie took it to her room, stood by the fire and opened it. ' _Tomorrow,_ ' it said. Valerie smiled brightly and tossed the letter into the fire. She waited until every inch of it turned black before walking off.

—

The next morning, Valerie had spoken to her mother that she was to visit Lady Palmer. Her friend had sent an invitation for Val so that they may enjoy one final visit before her wedding. Her mother was pleased enough with the reason and had offered to join her, but Valerie insisted that it was not necessary.

It was _truly_ not necessary.

As she hopped into Panam's carriage, she greeted her dear friend as they gave each other a knowing smile. "Are you ready?" She asked Val.

"Extremely. I'm... Rather anxious," Val admitted.

"You've damned the rules yet again," Panam grinned. "I admire your courage."

"It's less about courage and more about impatience," Val sighed, glancing out the window.

"I'd say you look downright concerned," she observed. "When I'd read your letter I could hardly believe it. Here I thought you were just another puppet, whisked away by a no-good worm of a man that would seek to domesticate you and hurt you 'til the end of your days."

Valerie paused. "Thank you?"

Panam laughed. "I mean to say I was wrong about you, and glad for it. You might be one of the only people who truly understands me and my distaste for the lives we lead. The others of the same mind are my _servants_. They ought to be my peers. When you told me you needed my help getting to Hartwell Inn in country hills, my day finally burned with excitement."

"You have not told anyone, have you?" Val asked, fiddling with the embroidery on her dress.

"Of course not. Do you think I would endanger such a deliciously devious event?" Pan asked, then chuckled at the look Val gave her. "My dear friend, you've entrusted me with this secret of yours, I would be but a charlatan to endanger you in any way. Besides, anyone that dares move against the world that has deemed us nothing better than accessories to a man's arm, they'd have my full support."

"Why had we not met any sooner, Lady Palmer?" Valerie smiled, taking her hand.

"If you call me that one more time, Valerie, I shall make you walk beside the carriage all the way."

—

By the time they had arrived at the Inn, the sun had all but vanished. The skies were pale and packed with clouds, and what simply was a faint drizzle had become a persistent downpour.

"Remember," Panam spoke a little loudly. "I shall retrieve you shortly after sundown if we are to get you home on time."

"You are a dear friend, Pan. I am in your debt for this—"

"No need to worry about that now, you must go!" She gestured to the door.

Val gave her a tight hug before exiting the carriage. Perhaps she should have thought about bringing an umbrella, though she did not expect such heavy rain. Thankfully, the path to the inn was not too far and she still had her hooded cloak. She rushed into the establishment, asking for the reservation.

_Rose_ , they had agreed, was the name they'd sign it under. Much to her relief, there was already a room signed to that name. After being directed to the room, Valerie stood there, alone, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. She had never, not once in her life, done anything of the sort. The study and Calhoun's were entirely different, as they were both within reach and easy to get to. This... This was deviation of a new sort and it scared her, but also excited her.

Knocking on the door, she opened it and walked in. The room itself was rather lovely and not too spacious. To the left was a fireplace that was fronted by a couch. To the right was the bed, rather large and covered in the fluffiest pillows and accompanied by two nightstands. Ahead of her, by an open window, stood the true treasure of the room; man she had been looking for. Turning around, Johnny saw her and smiled brightly.

He stood beside a table by the window, his hand resting gently against the back of a chair. The moment he saw her, he began to approach her. Val swung the door shut behind her and moved to close the gap between them.

The pair wrapped themselves around each other in a warm embrace, sighing in relief. For a moment, as they pulled away, they simply looked each other in the eye. A small smile here, a thumb's caress there, and Valerie found herself kissing him yet again. She could have melted in his embrace, her lips moving so passionately against his. He tasted of tea and berries, smelled of a warm hearth and pine, and felt like home.

Just as she held onto him so fervently, as her kisses grew urgent, he pulled away. His chest heaved as he worked to steady his breathing. "Wait," he whispered and held onto her still, brushing a lock of loose hair from her face. "I just... I want to see you. _Speak_ with you."

Hearing those words, Valerie smiled warmly. "I do too."

"Or perhaps I should get you something dry to wear," he chuckled, pulled away to look at her fully. "What—did you _swim_ here?"

"Hmm, very funny," she smiled.

"Well, no matter. This should be fine," Johnny said, moving to the table. He began to pick up the cups, dishes, whatever had been set out for them, moving it to the smaller table in front of the couch.

"What... are you doing?" Valerie asked him.

"The fire isn't going to come to us. You need to stay warm, dry off," he explained as though it were obvious. The moment Valerie tried to help, he frowned and pointed at the couch. "Sit." Once he was done moving everything over, he joined her, pouring her some tea and presenting her bowls of berries and cream. "It was clever, sending the letter through Mary."

"I'm glad it reached you well. I... needed to see you. Since we won't be having any gatherings before the wedding," she explained, picking up her cup.

"But my dear, it is terribly bad luck to see one another before the wedding," he chuckled.

"To hell with luck, we've been making our own rules from the start," she said, taking a sip and putting her cup down.

Johnny smiled at her and reached for her hand. "Thank you for meeting with me here."

"I needed to know you were alright," she replied, holding his hand with both of hers now.

"I am. So close to the wedding, it's... I've been keeping my nose out of trouble," he sighed.

"But my _lord_ , that's where it belongs," she smirked, raising a brow.

"Truly heartbreaking, I know," he chuckled, placing a hand over his heart.

Valerie laughed. "Are you excited?"

"To get into trouble?" He asked.

"I was going to say about getting married but that bears the same meaning," Valerie joked.

Johnny let out a hearty laugh. "If it means more of that humor at my side, then yes, truly I am." That made Valerie smile and bite her lip a moment. His gaze lingered on those lips before he turned his attention to his tea. "So... About that kiss."

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I was simply so relieved to see you were here and doing alright, and then it just... happened."

"I do not regret it." He put his cup back into place. "My only contemplation is... Well, I mean, you were in love with him, Val." That smile of hers finally faded. "I just wanted to make sure that you knew what you wanted."

Valerie's eyes lingered on the fire a moment. "You know, for a long time, I did love him. I mean, he did make me happy. But ever since it all ended, I've had time to think and to see it for what it truly was. I _was_ happy, but... It wasn't real. It doesn't _feel_ real. Jeffrey... my first love? _That_ was real. His promise, his intentions... But with Laurence..."

She took a breath, leaning back into the seat. "We'd meet at the same place, we'd make love, we'd talk, and I’d leave. Make love, talk, leave, over and over again. On occasion, he'd paint or draw me, though it was mostly sketches on paper that I now realize was probably not to waste any paint..." Valerie rolled her eyes. "But it was... meaningless. I was finding an escape through him and I thought it to be love, but... then I had some time to think. About love. About what it was."

"And did you find an answer to it? That very question ails many a man," Johnny raised a brow at her.

"It ails women too, believe me," Val laughed, looking at him. "All this time, I'd been looking for a husband. One man to spend the rest of my life with, to get to know him a little before marriage and to then learn more about one another and go through all of life's hardships together, as well as everything good that came with it."

She paused to pick up a berry, popping it into her mouth while she collected her thoughts. "I did not realize, in our arrangement, when we set aside those expectations from one another, we became friends. I enjoyed our company more than I've enjoyed any other in a long time. I've wanted to strangle you, to embrace you, to laugh with you, cry with you... I began to yearn for you even though we were already to be married."

Valerie decided to wait a moment, wanting to give him the chance to speak by going for her tea and taking a long sip. He did not speak, instead he sat there beside her, his breath slightly quickened and his gaze focused solely on her. "I hope that does not bother you," she began, "that I feel this way. I know it was not our agreement and I understand if you wish to remain... _free_..."

"Free?" He repeated immediately. "My dear, I have not known freedom, not truly, not until I met you."

Valerie froze.

Johnny got off his seat so that he could kneel in front of her and take her hands in his. "I thought freedom meant leaving my home whenever I wanted, filling my nights with inebriation and meaningless companionship. I've always been angry at many things in my life, at the injustice, mainly... but you... Oh, my dear, you've made me _furious,_ " he squeezed her hands with a cheeky smile. "You've made me feel _so_ much more, and you've made me remember what freedom truly meant."

He took a breath, almost studying her gaze. His thumbs brushed over the back of her hands in soft, caring circles. "In the gardens, you asked me if I wanted to be free of you—love, I am free _because_ of you. To know that in a week, we would be walking out into the world as one... It gives me hope."

"You said love," she breathed.

"What?"

"You called me _love_ ," she clarified.

He did not break eye contact with her. "I have never lied to you, I see no point in starting now."

Without warning, Valerie leaned in to kiss him—so hard, in fact, that she stumbled forward on top of him and tackled him into the ground. The pair of them laughed, a little winded by the impact. Seeing her above him, her golden hair curtained around their faces, he could not help but kiss her again, propping himself up on his elbows.

In their kiss, Valerie felt herself pulled into their passion, absentmindedly grinding her hips against his. The sound that he made was one she had never heard before from any man. It was enough to send her cheeks burning pink and her core flaming in arousal. He sat up with such strength that it pushed her onto his lap, before he moved to have them both stand.

He pulled her tightly against his body, simply holding her there. "Are you sure you want this? Here, now, with me?"

Val pushed herself up. "Yes," she kissed him, "Yes," another kiss, "and yes," she finished with a final kiss. That seemed to be enough to make him smile and embrace her. His hands rushed to her back to attempt to undo her corset, finding no strings or anything of the sort. Valerie pushed him away slightly and shook her head as she pointed down her front. Her bodice had been made with simple clasps hidden in floral embroidery along the front. When he looked at her quizzically, with a hint of excitement, she gave him a cheeky smile. "You _did_ mention a simpler corset..."

Laughing at her comment, his lips crashed into hers and his hands fumbled with the clasps, undoing them so easily. With slow movements, he hooked the neckline of her dress and slowly pulled it down, his thumbs running over the sides of her ribs as he did so. The dress pooled around her feet, leaving her in only the thin, silken gown. Val's hands traveled down his chest and to his pants, finding her way around the buckles to give it a sharp tug. Then another. One more.

It wasn't coming loose.

The pair of them burst into laughter, Johnny's head falling into her shoulder a moment. "And you were complaining about my corset..." Val laughed, trying to give his pants a few more tugs but giving in to the laughter instead. Through their giggles, Johnny took her hands in his, leading them to where they were meant to go and showing her how to unlatch his pants.

One they were off, he had his forehead leaning against hers as he kicked them off to the side. Valerie moved her hands up to pull apart his shirt, resting the palms of her hands against his bare chest.

"Where else would you like to lead them?" she whispered to him, a delicious invitation.

There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught onto her meaning, his hands wrapping around her's once more. Without looking away, he slowly led one down his chest, across his abdomen and lower until it rested along his length. Val's mouth ran dry at the feeling of him beneath her touch. The moment she stroked him nice and slow, his hands moved to her arms. He let out yet another sigh of relief, his hips grinding into her palm.

Her fingers wrapped around him, doing what she knew how to do and caressing him—all the while watching every little way his expression would change based on where she'd touch. She could feel herself growing slicker and hotter just looking at him.

A few moments longer of this had him grasping onto the gown, tugging it up, up, up, until it was well over her head and off of her. She could have sworn that he staggered slightly, his eyes lazily dragging over every inch of her body. His hands were instantly cupping her ass, pulling at her in such a way that it hoisted her up. His hands slid down her thighs in time with her arms wrapping around him. Val let out a small yelp as she felt him carry her, her little shriek morphing into giggles.

She exclaimed in surprise yet again when he dropped her onto the bed, following her right after. There, nestled between her legs, he hovered above her and grinned. They had sunk into the soft mattress slightly, and she looked positively angelic to him in that moment.

"My dear, you look _ravishing_ ," he whispered to her, his face mere inches away from hers.

Her hand gracing his cheek was far too sweet a gesture for the words that came out of her mouth. "Then _ravish_ me."

He could not have had a more enticing invitation, as his lips found hers without hesitation. His tongue danced against hers, exploring her and tasting her, before he trailed it along her jaw and across her neck. "As you wish," he mumbled against a breast before lowering even further to take a nipple into his mouth. Her back arched and her eyes closed slowly, a drawn out moan ringing out from her.

It was the first moan of pleasure he had ever heard from her, and it was _music_ to his ears. Had he known she sounded so sweet, he would have fought harder to win her heart _weeks_ ago. Sucking onto her breast, he ran the broad side of his tongue over the sensitive nub before moving slowly to the other, giving it a bit of attention. His hand took place where his mouth was previously, massaging her with care.

Valerie was moving and rocking beneath him, her body aching to continue to be touched. It was clear to him just how familiar she was to the world of pleasure, but there was one thing he wanted to do most with her—one thing he knew she might appreciate. He slowly began to move even further, losing himself into her sweet scent as he kissed her belly. He took a deep breath through the nose, nearly sinking into the bed and melting.

She had pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch him, her anticipation building so intensely she might combust. She watched as his arms hooked beneath her legs and his hands rested flat on her belly, and then her heart stopped. From just above the apex between her legs, he looked up at her and smiled.

"I should like to see you this way _every_ morning, my dear," he muttered to her.

Valerie bit her lip so hard she might have started tasting iron. Her face was surely redder than it had ever been. She ran her fingers through her hair to get it all out of her face, finding it a mistake to do so as it was right when Johnny's lips met her clit. Losing her balance, she slipped and landed back into the bad, letting out a sharp gasp.

His slick, hot tongue stroked along the bundle of nerves without warning, flicking against it a few times before he pulled away with a suckle. Her hips tried to push and pull, to sway into his touch but he held her firmly against the bed by the abdomen. He then dragged his tongue from the edge of her entrance and up to the top, teasing her clit once again. He ran it along this way once more, and again, before sending his tongue as deep into her as it could go. He pulled away with a gasp as one would after taking a deep drink, hissing something about how delicious she was.

Valerie could have died right then and she would not have cared.

Her hands grasped tightly into the sheets as she moaned, unsure as to how long her eyes had remained closed. His tongue moved up to her clit again, giving her some long and painfully slow strokes. She had barely noticed the absence of one of his hands upon her belly, as she started to feel something teasing at her entrance. Val dared to glance down, seeing how his arm flexed and his muscles tightened to hold her down while his other hand had positioned itself below his jaw. A moment later, she felt his finger push into her.

Valerie cursed into the air, unsure as to whether it was the waves of pleasure or the mere sight of him tasting her so thoroughly that aroused her so heavily. He seemed so lost in it, as though it was the only thing that mattered and nothing else. Suddenly, a second finger went into her just in time for his tongue to move mercilessly against her. Her head thrust backward again as her back pushed up. The hand at her abdomen was now holding onto her thigh to keep her legs spread, a moment that was almost second nature to the man. His fingers hooked inside her, pushing up against her nerves and tugging at them relentlessly.

Feeling those intense waves of pleasure building within her, she reached down with a hand, tangling her fingers into his hair as she called out his name. His fingers thrust into her faster, his tongue worked harder, and he held onto her tighter just as her hips ground with each wave. When the climax finally hit her, her moans came out in shudders, more composed of heavy gasping and chest heaving than an actual moan. In that moment, every single inch of her body responded to Johnny, as though he had full _control_.

He continued to caress her, both inside and out, his touch slowing down gradually alongside her ecstasy. The moment her body lowered to the bed and her grasp loosened, he pulled away from her with a kiss and placed one more along the inside of the thigh he held. He let out a hum of satisfaction, slowly crawling his way up. She lay beneath him, panting heavily and her cheeks painted a deep red. The moment he was in reach, he leaned in to kiss her, hearing her muffled, tired moans against his lips.

Then, much to his surprise, she was motioning for him to pull away. She guided him onto his back and he began to realize what she wanted, and the thought made his cock throb with anticipation. Valerie laid down alongside him, her arms keeping her face propped just over his arousal while she lay on her side. Slowly, a little nervously, she took him in her hand and heard him gasp. Val looked over to him, not realizing just what an image she was creating for him as she brought his tip to her lips while looking him in the eye.

His breathing faltered severely, as did his composure. By _God,_ if he did not spend the rest of his days making this woman happy, he would deserve every bit of the nasty fate he'd receive.

He had told her that what one would do to a man was more of the same as what a woman would receive, so she tried to follow that notion. Which was why Valerie ran her tongue from the underside of the head and over the top before taking him into her mouth again. That seemed to do the trick just well enough as it sent Johnny sinking back into the bed. His jaw worked as he tried to reach forward, deciding on grasping the covers beneath them instead. She was thankful, as his knuckles turned white from the tightness.

She continued to run her tongue over him, finding that the more places she licked him, the more reactions she'd get out of him. _God_ , she'd never heard such soft, quiet moans from a man—it _pleased_ her to know he was enjoying what she did, so she continued. When she pulled away for air, she stroked him with her hand, watching as he bit his lower lip and furrowed his brows, that little crease forming in between.

Seeing as how he was slick from her tongue, she gave it a try. She moved her lips to the head once more, swirling her tongue over the sensitive tip before slowly taking his length into her mouth. That caused him to moan a little louder, whispering words of encouragement to her. She pulled out slowly, tasted him once more, and then took him in even deeper. She continued this way, nice and slow, exploring him, finding out what made him tick, listening to him.

She soon felt his hand caressing the side of her body, finding its way between her legs. His fingers slipped between her folds, making her moan around his cock. She pulled away with a suckle, watching him slightly twitch at the sensation, so she tried it again. It was all the more alluring when feeling him touch her ever so slowly, that intoxicating pleasure building within her again. Just as she began to feel determined to have him find his release, she felt him begin to motion her to get up.

"Not so soon," he whispered. "I want to be with you."

Val licked her lips, seeing his eyes immediately drawn to the motion. He moved in to kiss her, taking over in that prospect with a sense of hunger he had never shown before. Moments later, he had led her onto her back once more and had mounted himself above her. His hands were constantly upon her in the gentlest touches he could muster. Beyond giving her pleasure, it was to move her hair out of her face or simply stroke it, or entwine his fingers in hers—simple little things.

She had never taken her time this way while making love.

Perhaps she had never properly made _love_ before.

Her belly grew aflutter at the thought.

She felt him grind his cock against her slowly with such patient motions, she was sure it must have been killing him. It certainly was killing her. It made Val pull away from the kiss with a sharp nibble. "Johnny. Take me."

"Where would you like me to take you, my dear?" he whispered, running his tongue along her neck, making her whimper.

"To heaven, to the bloody moon," she whispered, "I want you, darling."

"Where do you want me," he demanded, teeth grazing at the skin above her breast.

"Johnny..." She begged breathlessly, "I want you inside me."

"And I want you around me," he replied, moving to kiss her as his hand guided his tip to her entrance. Looking her in the eyes, he drove himself into her slowly.

The pair of them gasped at the sensation, holding onto each other tightly as they adjusted for a moment, before Val wrapped her legs around him impatiently. Johnny moved to kiss her, losing himself in realization that they both tasted of each other. His hips rolled forward and he thrust himself into her, deep, deep, deep. The moment he pulled out of her, he could not wait to thrust himself back in, finding himself in a steady rhythm.

Val's hips moved on their own accord, wanting to take him in with each thrust as she moaned into the kiss. A moment later, Johnny pulled back from the kiss just long enough to bring his fingers to his lips—the fingers he had moved inside her. He took them ever so slightly into his mouth before leading them down to her clit. Val watched this with slightly parted lips, panting and moaning at what she felt only to feel like she was losing herself in pleasure once more.

With him thrusting inside her with such intensity, and his fingers working at her most sensitive spot, it did not take long for her to find her release again. As her insides tightened around him, it had him dipping his head into her shoulder, cursing and moaning at once. Val's fingers had just begun to dig into his skin at his shoulders when realization struck her. She moved her hands to his hair and the base of his neck instead, fingers wrapping tightly around his lush, black locks.

Tugging at his hair in such a manner tilted his head back and it seemed to do all the right things to him. He looked down at her, his eyes piercing into hers. She could feel it now. One hand moved to her thigh to keep her stable, the other had been looped beneath her shoulder, holding onto the bed by the sheets—tightly. His hips thrust into her faster, with more urgent strokes, and his moans began to grow a bit more vocal.

In the few seconds building up to his peak, his hand moved from the sheets to the back of her head, his muscles tensed and he pulled at her by the hip. Johnny buried himself inside her as deep as he could go, calling out to her as he felt a powerful orgasm pulsate through him. Moving once, twice more into her, he remained still, breathing heavily while feeling her hands moving from hair to cheek to shoulder.

Their moans sounded together, their breathing shared and their bodies entwined ever so tightly. Johnny felt himself nearly collapse onto her, holding onto his remaining strength by a slim thread. The second he had the willpower, he gave her one more lingering kiss before pulling out of her.

He dropped into the bed just beside her and Val moved to immediately rest against him, the pair of them still trying hard to catch their breath. His arms were immediately around her, hands brushing her hair back and caressing her body, keeping her close. Her hand laid splayed across his chest, holding onto him a moment before it went up to his jaw. Her fingers traced along through his beard until her palm cupped his cheek.

The same cheek that very hand had struck once. Something she wasn't sure she'd forget, nor forgive—both of which he had already done.

She glanced up at him and Johnny returned the gaze. The two of them said nothing, but they held each other close. They knew very well what this entailed, what this meant for them. They knew all too well, the words that did not need to be spoken between them just yet. It only made them all the more certain about the days to come. Certain about the single, most important truth about it all.

They were never to feel alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe.
> 
> The final chapter is already written. It is the ending/epilogue of the story, it needs proofreading and editing but it will be out very soon, so be ready!


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie and Johnny prepare for their special day—and it finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the last chapter. It is lorge and packed with all sorts of emotions, I hope y'all enjoy.
> 
> I dedicate this chapter to Jules for cheering me on from the start, reading everything and also just being the best person ever. That seamstress scene is for you bb.

A soft breeze had been blowing into the room when Valerie finally opened her eyes. Parts of her were covered with a blanket, but her leg had peeked out from under in her sleep. Most of her arms and back were exposed too, allowing for the cool air to soothe and caress her skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. The room itself was rather dark, save for the soft, fading light pouring in through the window.

Shifting onto her back, she could see the silhouette of Johnny standing by the window. He was shirtless and had one arm tucked against his ribs with the other resting against it casually. He had been standing there, absentmindedly grazing at the nail of his thumb, when she caught his attention. As Valerie moved back a little so her head could be better propped up by the pillows, she slipped out of the blankets ever so slightly. Her chest was now partly exposed to him, making him smile in the dim light.

Valerie let out a tired sigh, humming a little as she stretched. She then pushed herself out of bed, wrapping the sheets around herself as she ran a hand through her hair. When she reached Johnny, she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his back. Eyes closed, she sighed again, feeling his hands caress her forearms.

"I did not intend to fall asleep. You should have woken me," she whispered.

"And disturbed your peace?" he mumbled to her. "You looked far too serene, my dear."

"It is already almost time for me to head back. I don't want to go," she told him, holding on just a little tighter.

Johnny shifted slightly so that he could move his left arm around her shoulders, bringing her over to his side. One of her hands rested on his chest as the other remained around his waist. He took her hand in his, brushing over her knuckles with his thumb. "We'll have many more nights like this, uninterrupted and free."

"Do you promise?" she asked him, looking at their entwined hands.

"Of course, my dear," he replied, kissing the top of her head.

The way her head was pressed against his chest allowed her to hear his heartbeats. She shut her eyes momentarily in order to listen, taking in every rise of his chest and every thump of his heart. When she finally opened them again, she looked at their hands once more. Her brows furrowed into a crease when she noticed it. He had bitten his nail down as far as it could go, but maybe a little too far. It was reddened and seemed to still be a bit sore.

Valerie sighed and shut her eyes, gently rocking in his hold as they stood there, thinking of nothing but freedom.

—

No, no, _no_. It was far too green. Not the pretty, lush, forest green that she liked, but a drab, dull and faded green that had a tinge of yellow she did not enjoy. It was like the dying leaves of some very uninteresting weeds—mainly because of the tacky embroidery.

It was certainly the fastest that she had ever gotten out of a dress. Emily, along with a couple of other maids, helped Valerie in and out of a few dresses that had been set aside for her specifically. She had come to the seamstress with her mother so that she could pick up a few dresses to take on her honeymoon. However, that required trying them out. After a few unnecessary criticisms by her mother, Val respectfully asked for some privacy in the changing room so that she could make her own decisions.

The next dress was a beautiful light blue dress with such intricate patterns embroidered into the bodice. She would have loved it had the hoop not been too big. In fact, if resized and hoopless, she might consider wearing it. There was a lot she wished to do that required her to be free of such constrictions. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

"Emily, could you fetch those shoes please? I would like to see whether they suit this dress or not," she told her maid.

"At once, my lady," she replied, moving immediately to do so. Bringing them over to her, she reached past the hoop to bring one of the shoes to Val's feet. It was hard with the massive hoop but at least it was empty within. However, on her way to put on the second shoe, she was interrupted by a sound.

The side door to the changing room opened without warning, causing her to turn in place. Much to Valerie's surprise, it was Mary that walked through, and she began beckoning the maids over.

"Mary?" Valerie looked to her in confusion. "What... What is going on?"

"It's alright, my lady," she replied with a cheeky smile. "We need to, um... Bring some ribbons."

Seeing Emily rushing over to her as well, Valerie threw a glance at her in question but only got a smile in return. The maids one by one left through the door that lead into a storage room in the establishment, leaving her standing alone. Stunned by confusion, Valerie turned back to the mirror to observe the dress, but her mind was too focused on whatever had just happened. The door opened once more and she turned, opening her mouth to ask—

Her eyes widened slightly as he walked in, quickly stepping over to her. "What are you doing here, you'll be caught!" She whispered to him in panic.

Johnny stepped up onto the platform with her and pulled her in by the waist. "I couldn't wait. I had to see you," he replied in a hushed voice. He leaned in to kiss her, moving his lips against hers soft and slowly as though he savored every taste. "I wanted to give you something."

"Surely, my dear, you could have sent it with Mary?" Val reasoned, unable to hold back her flustered smile.

"Now where would be the fun in that?" He smirked, reaching into his pocket. Johnny pulled out a small silk bundle, handing it over to her. "Open it."

Valerie looked up at him, then down at the bundle, her fingers tugging away at the little red fabric. Pulling it away revealed a small silver rose, beautifully bloomed and attached to the end of two long pins. Right at the center of the rose was one, small diamond, glistening in the afternoon light.

"Johnny..." She whispered.

"Do you like it?" He asked her, hands at her elbows.

"I..." She looked up at him, a warm smile growing on her lips. "I adore it, thank you."

"I saw it and had to bring it to you. That and, well, I had to see you," he admitted. He then looked down at her dress. "You look..."

"Don't. Don't even finish that sentence. I must change out of it..." She sighed, bowing her head as she felt her cheeks grow a little hot. "I can barely move in it, it's too large and I've only got one shoe on."

"You... Why do you only have one shoe on?"

"Because some man decided to interrupt me while I was getting dressed," she replied.

"How improper. Someone must apprehend him at once," he leaned in as well as he could.

"That they should," she brought a hand to his cheek, looking at him through her lids.

He kissed her yet again, his tongue brushing over her lips before they parted for him. God, she missed him, as strange as it was to say it. To even _think_ it. She had not been able to stop thinking about their day at the Inn, about how he felt around her, inside her. Even at night, it was all she would think about—

And there it was again. She was aroused.

There was a rumble in his throat just before he pulled away. She was still aroused.

"I don't believe your cheeks were that red when I walked in," he whispered to her.

"You know very well what you do to me, you bastard," she smirked.

"Well I shan't keep you too long, but before I leave..." He stepped back, kneeling down before her to pick up her second shoe. He reached past the hem of her dress, his coarse fingers grazing the side of her ankle. He looked up at her just as she sighed, watching him. Johnny slipped the shoe on, his thumb brushing against her skin a little too high before letting go.

The door of the establishment that connected to the changing room swung open, the voices of a couple of women echoing in. Their eyes widened in panic and while Valerie was looking around for the fastest way he could escape, Johnny had a different idea. She suddenly felt his arms wrapping around her legs as he shoved himself beneath her dress.

Her breath caught in her throat and Valerie stood stunned, looking into the mirror. Her mother and the seamstress were talking as they approached, taking a look over her.

"My dear, you look _wonderful_ ," her mother told her, "are you finished?"

"Not yet," Valerie replied all too quietly, trying to remain nonchalant even though Johnny's hand had moved to her ass. She looked herself over in the mirror, thankful for the dress' obnoxiously large hoop.

"Where on earth are your maids?" Her mother glanced around.

"I think they went to find some—" No. _No._ "Some ribbons," she forced herself to say, feeling Johnny's hands slowly caress their way up her legs. One hand moved to her inner thigh, brushing up dangerously close to her slit before moving down again. Valerie blinked hard, moving her hands to her abdomen as she made to brush down some invisible lint.

"Well, when they return, I should like to see more of the dresses," her mother replied.

"I still have to try a couple more. Might I get the room to do so?" Valerie asked.

"In a moment," her mother waved her off, turning to speak to the seamstress.

Johnny's hand slowly moved up again, and just as she thought it would stop, she felt his fingers brush against her apex, rubbing along the tip of her clit just barely. Valerie nearly gasped, holding her breath so as to not let out any labored gasps. His fingertips slipped into her opening just enough to feel how wet she had gotten already. Val could almost feel the smirk on his face just by the motion of his touch.

He then pulled his hand away and she shut her eyes in relief, thankful that he had shown her some mercy. Now, she could properly—

_Fuck!_

Valerie let out a sharp gasp as she felt his tongue run along her little nub, his chin and cheeks pressed against her. His hands grasped onto her ass tightly, keeping her steady.

Her mother and the seamstress turned to her in worry. "Something the matter, my lady?" The seamstress asked.

"No, just..." Valerie took a deep breath. "I nearly slipped. It's just... A little too tight for me."

"Allow me to adjust it for you, any way you like—" she tried to say, reaching for the dress.

"No!" Val yelled, nearly stumbling at the feeling of a tongue teasing her clit without pause. "I mean," she cleared her throat. "No thank you, I... I must try on the others first. Emily!" She called, hoping the maid would return.

A moment later, she did, as did the other women—all of them except Mary. Emily approached Val with a knowing smile. "Yes, my lady?"

"Have you found those ribbons yet?" She asked her, taking a short breath.

"Not yet, my lady," Emily replied, brows furrowing only a fraction. When she saw the pointed look in Val's eye, the slightly wide-eyed panic, Emily understood. "We must make haste, my lady, if we are to try on the other dresses."

"Well, mother, I must continue," Val said, swallowing hard. She could see a small, playful smirk on Emily's lips. She _knew_.

"Well, give us a shout if you need anything. But _hurry_. We shall look at the silks until you return," her mother waved, motioning the seamstress to follow.

Emily glanced at Valerie, tilting her head as though to ask where Johnny was. Valerie merely glanced down at her dress. Emily suppressed a smile rather skillfully, waiting for Val's mother to leave before ushering the others back.

Once they were alone in the room again, Valerie readied herself to curse at him only to feel his fingers inserting past her entrance. She pressed the palm of a hand tightly against the bodice of her dress while the other clenched around the pin. She shut her eyes momentarily—no, that was worse, because all she could focus on then was the waves of pleasure between her legs.

Johnny gave her clit a little suckle, running the broad side of his tongue over it just after. He then flicked it over and over again while his fingers thrust into her, tugging away at her sweet spot. He did not relent until he felt her legs begin to shake. With a surprising amount of willpower, Valerie shut her mouth tight and kept silent as her entire lower body shook. She felt her insides clenching and her clit throbbing as Johnny brought her over the edge. Her back slightly arched and she nearly lost her balance, but Johnny kept a tight hold of her from below.

Once her orgasm flowed to a slow stop, Johnny pulled away from her with a few kisses along her thighs, finally standing up. His hair was ruffled, his skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and his chin glistened with her slick. She would have him right then and there if it weren't for the company outside each door, as well as that god awful dress.

"You. Are. The. Worst," she cursed at him, unable to stop herself from chuckling lightly.

"I could not help myself," he whispered to her, helping her down from the platform. "You looked far too beautiful, even more so from out here."

"Do not pretend with me. This dress is ridiculous," she jested, attempting not to crumble at what he said before.

"And I'd have it off of you in a heartbeat," he responded with a deep, quiet growl that was laced with hunger.

Valerie was sure she had stopped breathing.

Johnny moved in close, a finger tucked under her chin to make her look at him as his face inched toward hers. "I cannot wait to do exactly that after our wedding." His kiss was barely even a graze as Johnny then pulled away, giving her a wink.

"I am going to make you pay for this," Val promised, biting her lower lip.

"I should expect nothing less," he smirked at her, stepping away and moving to the door. Before he could leave, he turned back toward her once more with an earnest smile.

One that she returned with a full heart.

—

Dresses, undergarments, night clothes and all other necessary items of clothing had all been packed. Accessories were secured in chests; bracelets, necklaces, earrings, they were all put away for the trip. She would take her things with her to their honeymoon, and then bring them all to their new home.

There was one thing she did not pack, one thing that she wanted to use in two days' time. Sitting in front of her vanity, she looked down at the pin in her hands. It was a rose of flawless design, sturdy and very reflective. Most husbands would shower their wives with meaningless streams of golden chains and jewels—a hefty feat, to be sure—but none of that bore the significance that this lone pin did.

A white rose had become a recurring theme between them, and this pin immortalized it. It would never wither and it would never fade away.

Val was not entirely sure how long she sat staring at it, how long she had been smiling, but her stare had only broken when there was a knock on her door. A moment later, one of her maids came in, walking up to her with a note in her hands. It was from Mary, meant to be kept secret. Valerie set the pin down and opened the note, reading one little sentence.

_Tonight. Eastern end of the garden by the hedges._

It was most certainly from Johnny, but the message puzzled her. He was to come to the gardens of her own estate? Later that night? It was rather late in the afternoon, too, not usually the hour one would send such a note—though nothing between them was ever conventional to begin with. She thanked her maid and told her to call Emily over, knowing that she needed help to ensure she did not get caught.

—

It was rather chilly and dark, out in the gardens. Valerie had wrapped herself up in a thick shawl, deciding to stroll in her nightgown rather than a dress of any kind. It would be easier to explain that way.

Valerie walked along the eastern property line, moving back and forth across one of the archways that cut through the hedges. She kept her shawl closed tightly across her front and her hair had been pinned up loosely with the rose. Her eyes darted across the dark shrubbery near the fencing of her home, searching over and over. Emily had been standing by the archway, keeping an eye on the gardens to ensure her privacy.

A little while later, she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. When she turned to look, she could see Johnny and Mary walking over to her. Mary hung back a little, giving them some space.

With a warm smile, Val marched over to her intended, wrapping her arms around him. Instead of feeling his welcoming warm grasp around her torso, his hands clutched onto her shoulders as he let out a sharp wince. A second later, a quiet groan sounded deep in his throat. His back had arched against her— _away_ from her hands. Moving her hands away from his back, Valerie pulled away to see his face. He was grinding his teeth, eyes shut tightly as he breathed heavily through his nose. A soft huff escaped him, before he finally opened his eyes, only to be staring hard at the ground.

He was breathing heavily, his body was tense and his expression was one of anger, of _shame_. His hands loosened their grip on her, sliding down her arms halfway before letting her go. The last time she had seen him look that grim was in the study after his conversation with his father. A cold, dark pit grew in her stomach at the realization.

"What happened?" she breathed, eyes wide and brows pinched in concern.

"I _spoke out of turn_ , according to him. He was raising his voice, spoke to me of responsibilities and I... I argued with him," he explained, his voice breaking slightly. "I lost my temper, I shouldn't have done that, I—"

"Stop," she interrupted.

"Valerie—"

"Stop it." She looked at him, her anger now pushing past her pain. "Those are _not_ your words. A father should not do this to his son, you are _not_ at fault." He said nothing, only looked at her. "We have two more days, and then we'll be far away from here."

"For a _month_ ," he reminded her.

Valerie paused, thinking about it. Her eyes darted back and forth as she considered their options, finally deciding on one. "We could stay gone. Leave and never return."

Johnny's eyes widened. "Valerie... your family would—"

"They'd what, chastise me and speak ill of me to the very people in society that I wish to avoid?" she asked, her voice remaining soft and devoid of the contempt she felt.

"Your friends..."

"Will understand. The true ones will, anyway," Val replied.

"But what of your home, your inheritance, your duty?" he argued. "All that is owed to you?"

Valerie stepped closer. "My family has been preparing all my life for the day I would finally leave the nest. They can manage without me, I am no longer their responsibility."

"You will be mine," he countered, his voice rising a little in his uncertainty. "I cannot take care of you without taking place at my father's side."

"You do not need him!" She insisted. "Johnny, your life is more valuable than this. He would be the _death_ of you if you stayed!"

"No, he wouldn't," he replied, all too calmly. "He wouldn't dare kill me if I am to inherit his line."

That was the final straw.

Something in her heart shattered when hearing just how nonchalantly he told her this. He must have been enduring this for a very long time, _consistently_ , if it was so easy to say something like that. Something _that_ cold—and unfortunately true. When Johnny saw Valerie recoil at his words and watched as her eyes filled with tears, he stepped forward, pulling her into his hold. He wrapped himself around her tightly, feeling her arms slink around his shoulders—not his back.

She did not sob, she did not sniffle, she did not whimper even in the slightest, but she simply stood there, wondering just how long his suffering was to go on. He must have felt it, her heart aching, as he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and sighed heavily. After what felt like a lifetime of silence, his voice finally broke through.

"Lord Eurodyne..." he whispered, letting out a sigh. “He has a small estate in Rome."

Val pulled away momentarily to look at him, her eyes wide once more but not out of dread. No. Out of _hope_. He could not leave her here any more than she could leave him. He would not bring her to his home ever again, he could not risk her being subjected to all that his father had to offer. He had to make a choice, and the right one.

"I could speak with him," he continued. "Before the wedding. I could ask if he would be willing to let us stay there until we get our bearings. He is headed there soon after—" Valerie was already hugging him again, "—so maybe we could go there too." When she let out a long sigh, her hold on him tightened. Johnny held her close, but he shook his head. "I have not asked him yet."

"I know. But that you're willing to try this... That is enough," she replied.

As he was about to reply, the pair of them were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Lady Palencia is approaching. She is searching for you, my lady," Emily spoke in a rush.

Val turned to Johnny once more, mouth bobbing open and shut. Johnny cupped her cheek with his hand, "Do not worry. I will speak to him."

With a nod, Val pushed herself up onto her toes to kiss him, her lips lingering on his a moment longer than she'd intended. Hearing Emily call to them again in a more hushed tone, the pair pulled away and parted immediately. As Valerie walked back to Emily, she threw one last glance at Johnny, watching him disappear beyond the property line with Mary.

It would all be over soon. She had made him that promise, and one way or another, she would keep it.

—

Smoking, biting his nail and letting his leg bounce were all things he would do in this situation—maybe even drink an entire bottle to soothe his nerves. It was different this time, though. However much he could have benefited from calming himself, he did not want to ruin this. The one thing that he had been trying so hard to do right. His hands were clasped in front of him, his chin raised, shoulders straight—as straight as they could be when the lines across his back were still rather sore.

He stood there in a three piece suit, layers of dark grey and white with small, white flowers pinned to the breast. He glanced down at himself for what seemed to be the tenth time, making sure that he looked alright. His gut was in tangles, his mind a mess. Staring at the altar in front of him did nothing to keep him still—if anything, it made him even more nervous.

She was to be his wife today.

The prospect and _weight_ of that statement terrified him. He had ruined so many things in his touch, he'd had his way with women—married or not—and had lost himself to his vices more times than he could count. He brought the heavy burdens of a life of discomfort and pain, of constant injustice and negligence. His mind was a whirlwind of anger and frustration. There was no world in which he could ever deserve her, and none that would remain just and _good_ if she were to marry a man like him. There was no place in his life for such a bright light to exist where it would not be snuffed.

No place...

The doors opened and his thoughts seized. The wood groaned and echoed, and silence fell upon the lips of every guest in attendance. Slow footsteps approached and, when permitted, Johnny found himself turning around to face... _her_. The moment he laid his eyes upon her, that light of hers cast away all of his terrible thoughts and all his worries.

All he could do was think about her.

—

Her breath staggered and shuddered, threatening to cease altogether as she stepped over the threshold. Her eyes remained on the ground as she held onto the arm that guided her. She did not acknowledge anything or anyone in that moment, only paying attention to her feet to make sure she did not trip over herself. There was a sweet smell in the air, and she was certain something began to play and echo through the chamber, but her mind was abuzz with too many other things to care.

Her feet peaked past the hem of her beautiful, glittering dress. Having tentatively followed Valerie's guidance, the dress and jewelry that she wore today were made to accompany _silver_. Not gold. The bodice had been embroidered with intricate roses and vines, thin threads of silver woven into the fabric to complement the design. She was clad in silvers and diamonds, a jeweled circlet of flowers along with her traditional veil. Beneath it all, pinned into her hair and holding her golden curls back was the silver rose. It was the one thing she insisted upon above all else.

Then, she walked down the aisle and her eyes lifted, finding Johnny staring right back at her. A soft gasp escaped past her lips, seeing him in his suit. She suddenly remembered the day he undressed every layer of his top to bare himself to her, to give her his sullen truth. With each piece taken off, the bricks on that wall he kept around himself fell apart, leaving enough space for her to walk through.

She remembered his face, how resigned he looked. He was angry, he felt shame, he did not look at her but he did not hesitate. He had made the decision to show her, to trust her with that deep secret, and that alone would have been enough to make her realize what it was that she felt for him.

Valerie then remembered the day they spent at the inn, how they opened their hearts to one another and allowed themselves that vulnerability. He was so considerate of her that day, taking his time to ensure that she was comfortable with him every step of the way. Not many people, let alone unmarried men, could ever hope to have that much warmth in their heart.

To her, he was a kind and gentle soul that was forced to be so coarse and harsh in order to survive. The world around him did not reward him for his kindness and his good deeds, but only sought to swallow him whole. With her, she saw someone different, someone who was finally allowed to grow and change. It was the same way for her. For a long time, she had resigned herself to a snake of a man, calling it love simply because she did not wish to lose herself in the unchanging game of the world. In her defiance, she found refuge in the wrong place.

Until true refuge found her.

Walking up to him, her eyes met his and she beamed, her unbridled happiness pouring out of her. It must have affected him, as he took a deep breath and smiled in return. It seemed neither of them could hear or process much of the words spoken to them, but they followed along as well as they could. With each step of tradition, they were a step closer to their union. With the vows they swore, the words they spoke softly, they stood at the precipice. With the rings so gently placed upon one another's fingers, they were free.

They looked at one another with the dawning realization of that fact.

They were free.

—

Everything was in place. All of their belongings had been packed and set for travel, their goodbyes had been said. One final meet with his parents before the honeymoon had Valerie in all sorts of tangles. She watched it all so carefully, but it seemed civil enough. To the naked eye, to one who did not know any better, it was a rather curt and proper goodbye.

With her own parents, it took a little longer, mostly because her mother insisted on giving her one final talk regarding her marriage. It took _work_ to ensure that her performance of ignorance was convincing enough, not willing to reveal to her mother that she knew _much_ about certain acts already. Something to laugh about at a later date, she figured.

Panam had given her a visit as well. She knew of what Val and Johnny had spoken about and had demanded as many letters as she could receive from her friend. The Lady Palmer also swore that hell would rain upon the newlyweds if Val should ever forget about her. How could Valerie ever forget about such a spitfire of a woman? Giving Pan her deepest and sincerest gratitude, Valerie parted ways with her.

She finally left home with one last glance, uncertain of her future.

—

Upon settling into the carriage together, Johnny and Val exchanged a look of relief and excitement. Their trip was to be a rather long one, so they took to their comfort and prepared themselves. Shortly after their departure, the pair of them finally began to take in the fact that they were now well and truly free to do as they wanted. No more charades, no pretense, no more necessity to act this way or that in front of others.

It was a little while later that Valerie spotted it again, momentarily breaking out of her trance. His elbow had been leaning against the carriage door, partly poking out of the window. He had his thumb running along his lower lip absentmindedly while stuck in thought. There was a small crease between his brows and his eyes stared out toward the streets past the little curtains.

Then, she watched as his teeth grazed at his nail, the same one that she had found to be so sore before. She watched as the man beside her, through some bout of uneasiness, gave in to his anxiety. Her hold around his arm slipped, gaining his attention. His thumb parted from his lips momentarily, giving her just enough space to reach for his hand. Her fingers traced along his palm before wrapping around his hand, pulling it down to his lap.

She looked his thumb over, gently caressing it with her own. When Valerie looked up at Johnny, his eyes were still stuck on their entwined hands and he did not say a word. So, she leaned in and pressed her lips upon his cheek and rested her head against his shoulder, keeping her hold on him. He seemed to understand the gesture well enough, as a moment later, she felt him place a kiss atop her head—a slow and sweet thing.

The only sounds between them for a long while after was the grumbling of the wheels, clapping of hooves and the gentle sounds of thunder rolling around them. It was a beautiful day and for once, they felt completely content.

—

Valerie hadn't been planning on sitting down, but there she was. It had been raining on and off all day, but the second it had stopped, they had gotten out of the carriage to stretch their legs and _breathe_. The weather was so lovely that Val immediately grabbed her thick shawl and plopped down on a shallow slope just off the road. A few minutes later, the grass beside her crunched and snapped as footsteps approached. Johnny soon plopped down right next to her, looking ahead.

The pair of them did not say much at first. Val had been sitting with her legs slightly bent, her shawl wrapped around her entirely—she had been taking slow breaths in the cool breeze as she watched the countryside. Plains of grass and wildfires stretched out far and wide, interrupted by patches of golden green trees. There were fractures in the clouds, little gaps through which the sun would occasionally peek through, gracing the land with a bit of warmth in its glow.

Sitting beside her, Johnny propped his forearms against his knees, having snapped a loose weed off the ground to fiddle with. He looked at Valerie, seeing how content she was, how _beautiful_ she looked with that subconscious half-smile of hers. She must have noticed his staring, for she glanced at him and that smile grew brighter—that gracious smile that she saved for when she was well and truly happy.

Valerie then stretched out her arm, pulling the shawl apart as she did so and offering him one end of it. He gladly moved in closer, pulling the shawl over his shoulders. It wasn't enough to loop all the way around, but neither of them cared. His arm moved around her, holding her close.

Her gaze returned to the fields but Johnny continued watching her. A moment later, he opened his mouth to speak. He stumbled over the words he truly wanted to say, so his mouth formed something else. "Are you... warm enough?" He wanted to kick himself.

"Just fine," she nodded, then gave a sheepish smile. "I know it wasn't the plan to stick around any longer, but..."

"To hell with the plan," Johnny assured, giving her a little squeeze. Valerie smiled, but then her expression fell to a more neutral state a moment later. "What's on your mind?"

"Look at this place," she sighed. "It's... so serene. Open. Quiet. There's no one around but us—everyone here, I mean," she gestured to the carriages. "It's quite different from the gardens we'd visit."

"No looking over our shoulders, no need to save face or pretend in front of anyone," Johnny added.

"No expectations, no one to tell us we shouldn't be sitting here, covered in dirt and mud," Valerie chuckled. "If this is what our lives are to be, I'm quite content with it."

Johnny felt his heartbeat quicken as his chest fell deeper and rose higher. "Are you happy, Valerie?" She looked up at him. "I don't mean just right now, but... with everything that's happened. You did not choose to marry me, nor did you choose the life that made you have to do it."

"Nor did I choose to be falling in love with you, but that is just how life pans out sometimes, is it not?" She countered.

His breath fell short and he stopped breathing. "Valerie."

"Johnny."

"I'm not...You deserve everything. All of this," he gestured to the fields and skies. "Everything. Much more than I could give you. You deserve the life you were never allowed to lead."

"And you?" Valerie tilted her head. "What do you think you deserve?" He was silent. "Because I think you, too, were robbed of a wonderful life, sculpted to act this way and that, and even then you could not comply. Too much fire in your heart to do so... sit still and remain complacent, that is." Valerie then brought up a hand to his face, running a thumb across his cheekbone. "I won't lie and say that I'm not terrified of what this... uncertain future may bring... but I feel better knowing we're exploring it together."

"You know, all my life I'd been fighting the world one way or another. As a child I would pick fights, and the more I grew, the worse it got. It was difficult at home, so I would go out into the world and fight some more. I realized, after we met, that I had not had a single thing worth fighting for until now. At first it was to gain our future, our freedom... but after a while, it felt as though I was fighting for you too..." He sighed, leaning in close and shutting his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "A part of that sweetness of yours must have influenced me all along."

"Not to mention that admirable defiance of yours might have influenced _me_ ," Valerie smirked. "I needed it, though... to realize that I had not been fighting _enough_."

"And now... here we are," he opened his eyes.

"Here we are," she repeated, looking up at him.

There it was again, that light of hers, fighting away all the darkness in his world, pushing back against it all. Johnny tilted his head a little, leaning in to press his lips against her. She raised her chin just enough to meet him, sighing into the kiss. A soft and tender thing, their kiss, as their lips danced gracefully. A moment later, they pulled from it but remained close.

"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" Valerie asked, but it was less of a question, more of an acknowledgement. An acceptance. A certainty.

"More than alright, love," he replied with a small smile.

"Say that again," she whispered, biting her lips as a dash of pink graced her cheeks.

"Say what?" he asked.

"Love."

Johnny smiled, "How about something a little better?" When she gave him a curious look, he moved in to kiss her again and did not pull away until they both needed a moment to breathe.

Lips still brushing against one another, he whispered to his wife with the gentlest voice he could muster, "I love you, Valerie."

Valerie's big, green eyes looked back at her husband and swallowed that lump in her throat, hoping her heart would slow or be still. For the first time in her life, she felt completely happy.

"I love you too, Johnny."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks. If you've made it this far, thank you SO much, I legit did not think folks would enjoy this as much as they have, it's made me super happy. This was a great project to work on, I am REELING.
> 
> Anyway yeah, i love you thots <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this, I love you, let me know what you think!


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